


The Rising Sun

by JaneTheHero



Category: Transformers, Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Horses, Humour, Love, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2019-10-03 07:08:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 110,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17279417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneTheHero/pseuds/JaneTheHero
Summary: Jane has followed the same routine every morning, ever since her grandfather died of a heart attack, ever since her grandmother died in a car crash. But this morning is different. This morning, when she rides up the hill side to watch the rising of the sun, she happens across an ancient power belonging to an entirely different race. Can she survive?





	1. The Cube

**Author's Note:**

> I originally was considering writing a story centered around Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, but since there are so few stories written featuring Prowl and an OC (but tons of Prowl and Jazz stuff out there), I figured I would write one about him instead. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy! Read and review!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_The trees were tall, but I was taller, sitting with my legs dangling high above them on a_ steep hill slope in northern Nevada. Dawn was just starting to show over the mountains; appearing all of a sudden beneath the dark bank of clouds in the east, coming up over the tips of the mountains in a halo of smoldering brightness.

The grey roofs of the ranch house and the barn, way below me, began to glisten red instead of just dark; and the tin roof of the small lean-to my grandfather built for me glinted and twinkled.

           I had been sitting here for about ten minutes. Sometimes I stayed longer if the night was clear enough. It was always the first thing I did when I got up in the morning—saddled up Astraea and took her out for a pre-dawn ride up the hill slope to watch the rising of the sun. For as long as I could remember it had been a habit of mine; in previous times I had ridden up with my grandfather, now I did so alone. At this thought I paused, my mind bent on thoughts of Peony—the buckskin pony I been taught to ride on as a seven-year-old child and consequently fell in love with.

           There was no warmth yet in the rays of the sun, and the dawn wind was cold on the hill side, so that I presently began to shiver in my knitted yellow wool sweater. I turned to face the wind, breathing in something of freshness and wildness that went to my head and made me feel a part of the wilderness I was surrounded by.

         As usual I was hatless—I never rode with one—, and the wind made a tousled mop of my straight blonde hair, whipping strands onto my cheeks that were heavily dotted with freckles. I imagined for a moment how strange I must look with my pale skin and smear of freckles.

         I glanced at my phone for the time.

         5:36 AM.

         I must get on Astraea again.

         The moment this thought passed through my mind, Astraea seemed to sense it because, with her mouth still chewing, she lifted her head to look at me.

         Pushing myself up, I dusted off my paint-splattered jeans, before gathering up the bridle laying on the ground at my feet and stepping over to where the pretty, black mare still stood a little ways off, watching me. Reaching her head, I stroked her nose, and said softly—

         “Well, girl, whatta you say? Are you ready to go?”

         As if in answer of my question, Astraea blinked and then stood like a statue. I gently slipped the rubber bit into her mouth and completed the latches on the rest of her bridle. Then moving to her left side, I took hold of her withers and back, and jumped, swinging my leg over; and slowly, as had been taught to me, settled onto her back, legs hanging straight down.

         Beneath me Astraea shifted, conveying her eagerness, but otherwise was still. I drew up my reins, squeezed my calves a little, and she moved off.

         One of the things I loved most about riding out at this time was how, if you looked up, all the clouds in the sky had caught the colours of the sunrise, and there was a mingling of pink and red and gold and stretching over the other half, a piercing blue—

         Astraea wanted her head.

         I smiled.

         She must have been excited by the colour and the electric quality of the air and the movement in the swaying of the grass and the trees because she kept asking for a free rein. When I gave it to her, she stretched out her nose and went up to the steepest part of the slope at a gallop.

         It was hard to keep track of the time. The sound of Astraea’s hooves drumming across the ground drowned out everything but the feeling of the wind as it whipped at my hair. I felt as if we were alone in the world.

         We topped the hill and stood staring. From here I looked west over hundreds of miles of fog and grass, and beyond that across distant forests and interminable rough terrain, mysterious with hidden valleys and gorges and rocky headlands. Behind us the ranch stood wrapped in spring and early summer.

         I threw my head back and sucked in the smell of the cleanness and the greenness and the windiness—all so sharp and pleasant.

         It was moments like these that I depended on. I lived for these sunrise rides when it was just Astraea and I alone with the trees and the wind and the crisp smell of the air—

         An uncomfortable feeling gripped me. It was the sort of feeling that came without words to explain it, and I found myself looking around for something, anything—out of the ordinary.

         Then I saw it.

         In the midst of the fog there was a solid lump half buried, half resting in the earth. It was shaped like a cube, but I couldn’t make out any more details aside from that it was dark and the cube was huge.

         I wanted to venture closer to it, to investigate whatever it was further—except when I touched heels to Astraea sides to get her to start forward again, she refused to move. Perhaps she was aware of something I wasn’t, because her head was up and her ears pricked, listening, and there was a tautness and tension in her whole body.

         I stopped, and instead sat listening.

         Ahead of us, far down below the hill, looming uncannily in the fog, were four black shapes moving towards the cube. A car engine or two drifted up, and the sound of heavy thudding, muffled by the fog.

         The vehicles, it seemed, jumped on their wheels and then—I kid you not— _split apart_ into a fury of flying pieces, reforming into some sort of bi-pedal robot things _._ A hot sweat bathed me from head to foot, and I began to shake, half breathing—

         The wind roared down and swept up the fog. Way below, I could see I number of figures walking around the cube. In a moment one of the robot’s arms extended, reaching for it, and then there was just a burst of heat and light—a concocted blur of moving shapes, voices, images—throughout my entire body.

         It was all almost over before I could draw in a breath. The flash of light snaking across the sky disappeared, simultaneously, it seemed, along with the searing pain and heat I experienced in my body; vaguely I could sense Astraea rearing up, her delicate forefeet beating the air, except that, although I could sense it happening, _see_ it happening, I couldn’t move exactly, and my body fell limply towards the ground.

         I remembered thinking, “Oh, shit,” before I hit the ground and my vision went dark.

 

 

I woke up to the sight of Astraea’s four black legs standing a few feet away as she quietly feasted. I wasn’t sure how long I had been sprawled there unconscious but it must have been for a while; the sun was high now and flashed on my hair. Slowly I pushed myself up: wincing, with a catch of my breath, as my whole body, not just my head, began to ache aggressively. Stupidly I rolled over onto my stomach and closed my eyes, willing the pain away, the sun warming my—probably dirty—hair pooled around me.

         When I opened my eyes several minutes later, I saw that I was lying next to my phone. It must have fallen out of my pocket when I fell. Hopefully Astraea hadn’t stepped on it. I reached over and picked it off the ground and wiped the screen with my sleeve, then turned it on and looked at the time.

         12:30 AM.

         Well, shoot. I guess I had been laying here for a long time.

         Talk about one heck of a knock out. I couldn’t even remember what had happened. Had I hit my head during the fall? Had Astraea accidently kicked my brains in? Had she stepped on me while I was unconscious?

         Regardless of how much pain I was in at the moment, I had to admit that the last thought was actually kind of funny.

         Glancing again at my phone, I was suddenly hit with the memory of what had happened leading up to my fall.

         Robots who turned into cars.

         There were actual alien _robots_.

         And a giant cube thingy.

         Ignoring the throbbing in my head, I scrambled to my feet and turned to face the direction where the cube had been. It was gone—nothing but an empty crater sat in its place, along with a few tire tracks here and there, and—were those some kind of footprints?

         Proof that I’m not crazy, I thought to myself. Not that I planned on telling anyone.

         The ride home was a slow one, my eyes scanning both the ground and the horizon, terrified at every sound, while also in wonder again and again at what I had seen. Shaken as I was, I couldn’t help but feel amazed to have glimpsed what I had. As foolish as it was, I felt almost honoured. Now if only the burning pain emanating from my head would dissipate. I closed by eyes, trusting Astraea enough to know she would get us back to the ranch.

         When we arrived back my house, I gave Astraea her measure of oats after her rubdown, and then released her into the pasture, before I unlocked my front door, went inside, relocked the door, climbed the stairs to my bedroom, and then crawled into bed. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.


	2. Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm getting to the transformers, just getting the introductions out of the way first.
> 
> Read and review!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_Tired didn’t even_ begin _to describe how I was feeling when I had crawled into bed last_ nigh _t, I was_ exhausted _. My policy was to never use an alarm_ clock to wake me up in the mornings, for that I relied entirely on my body to stick to whatever schedule I set for myself—so I was kind of confused at first when I jolted awake to the sound of an alarm going off.

         Darting up in bed, I rubbed my eyes before glancing wildly around my room for the source, finally locating as the vibrating cell phone laying face down at the foot of the bed. Staring at it dumbstruck for a moment, I glanced around my room once more as though to reassure myself that the house wasn’t actually on fire, before gingerly reaching forward and holding it to my ear.

         “Hello?”

         “Where the fuck have you been?”

         “Abby?”

         “Who else, dumbass?”

         “Good morning to you too,” I said, lying back down in bed.

         “Did you just wake up or something? It’s late afternoon.”

         I glanced at my clock.

         4:15 PM.

         “I cannot believe you missed your appointment today,” Abby continued.

         “What?”

         “Your hair appointment. Did you seriously forget?”

         “Of course not—we made it for Thursday.”

         “Um, Jane? Janie? Are you alright?”

         I tried to stifle a yawn unsuccessfully. “Just a bit tired. Why?”

         “Because today IS Thursday.”

         I bolted upright again in bed. “Today’s Thursday?”

         “Did you forget?”

         No, I thought to myself, it’s just that last I checked I had fallen asleep on Monday.

         “Um, Jane? Hello, Jane? You still there?”

         “Um, I gotta go, Abbs. I’ll talk to you later,” I said, and then hung up despite her protests.

         Three days.

         That’s how long I had been asleep.

         Had I really been _that_ tired?

         Deciding that I should get up—despite wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and go back to sleep—I went into the bathroom, took off my dirty clothes, stepped into the tub and stood under the hot spray of water in the shower feeling like someone had beaten me the night before. I didn’t have time to relax though; I had animals to look after.

         My eyes popped open.

         Oh my God, the animals!

         I picked up one of the towels folded next to the tub, vigorously rubbed myself dry, then went and retrieved some clean articles of clothing. It wasn’t until I was on my way out the bathroom door that I just happened to look at myself in the mirror. I froze. Then I leaned into the mirror and stared into my own eyes.

         My eyes were blue.

         My eyes were _blue_.

         They were supposed to be green.

         What was going on? First I get struck by lightening or something, then I fall into a deep sleep for three entire days, wake up feeling like I’ve been run over by a bus, and now . . . now my eyes were blue, having seemingly faded from green to blue over a period of only three days and—hey, wait, were they _glowing_?

         No.

         No way.

         My eyes were glowing. In fact, the more intensely I focused on them, the more intensely they glowed. It was like looking into a regular eye, except the pupil—the part that was _supposed_ to be black—burned such a brilliant hue of blue that it almost appeared white.

         For an entire minute I did nothing but stare. I didn’t know what to do. Last I checked having your eyes change color overnight and then glow wasn’t exactly a normal thing that happened to humans. I couldn’t help but think over and over, “now what?” Because really, now what? I hadn’t a single clue where to go from here. I certainly couldn’t go walking around town looking like this.

        After another minute of contemplating and simultaneously ogling my new eyes (which I had to admit, were quite beautiful if you could get past the whole glowing thing), I finally came to the conclusion that my animals meant more to me than my appearance.

         With this in mind, I rushed downstairs and then outside to the pasture, calling for Astraea as I did so.

         The pasture fence ran beside the house not far, in fact, from the kitchen window; a small tin lean-to led along this fence, which my grandfather had built since at the time we couldn’t afford a barn—still couldn’t, in fact—and Astraea needed someplace dry and that offered temporary relief from the elements. Across the west end of the pasture, under the trees, the path sloped down sharply for ten feet or so to a flat area of beautiful green turf, through which a small stream ran. Golden sunlight lay over part of it; part of it was dark and pleasant with the shade of the trees that hung over the hill.

         I checked the lean-to for any sign of Astraea or her companion goat, Billy (Billy who I only just realized wasn’t on his usual spot on the porch waiting for me to come feed him) and finding neither of them there, I started to panic. Frantically I called their names again, louder, and then waited to see if either of them would turn up.

         Astraea obeyed. Presently she appeared coming over the dip in the trees with Billy The Goat right on her heels. She trotted up to me. The second I saw her head—just the pretty face, with the black bangs over her forehead and the daintily pricked ears framed in the hanging branches of the trees—I let out an audible sigh of relief. She was all right. They were both all right.

         Again and again I ran my hands over her face, stroking the dip between her eyes and nose, combing my fingers through her dusty mane, then gently cupping her quivering nostrils and blowing, just once, in greeting to her. When I was done reassuring myself that she was in fact all right, I walked to over to where the shed stood in the just-starting-to-set-sun and reached for the door—

         —which was already open.

         I must have forgotten to put the lock back on before heading up to bed three days ago, because any feed that could be gotten into was open or torn open and spread all over the floor. The entire shed was a mess. Billy The Goat had worked his way through everything he could get his mouth on.

         I shook my head, feeling more worn out by the minute.

         I lifted up the lid to a large and thankfully still-intact container full of grains, before scooping out what I wanted into a pair of buckets and delivering them to Astraea and Billy. Afterwards, I went back in and cleaned up what I could—the rest I threw out, such as a couple of horse blankets that had bite marks in them. Freaking goat.

         When I had finished I stood and watched, petting Astraea, as Billy stuck his head into Astraea’s empty bucket and licked up a few stray grains left over. Then he stood quietly, broadside to Astraea as she swished her black-coloured tail to keep off the flies.

         As I stood there, I knew that I was done for the day, though really I’d only just woken up. Too tired to cook and too exhausted to be hungry in any case, I mounted Astraea bareback, preparing to get rest my eyes a moment. I stretched out across her back and was immediately relieved to be on her. Something about her presence just soothed me. She felt familiar. Safe. Utterly and profoundly like home to me.

         When I woke the next morning to the motion of her shaking her mane like a wet dog, I couldn’t bring myself to so much sit up for an hour, lingering instead on her back while she grazed, still drowsy, though I’d slept for twelve hours.

         I slid off her back and stood slowly, my muscles stiff from having spent the night on the back of a horse, my headache coming back full force. I still wasn’t hungry, but I forced myself to make breakfast, pouring my self a bowl of cereal with milk. I lifted the spoon to my mouth and swallowed. In an instant I was bent over sideways on the table, retching miserably onto the floor of the kitchen. Deciding that I really was sick, but that I still needed to drink, because I was also probably extremely dehydrated. I hadn’t had a sip of water since the morning I’d fallen off Astraea over four days ago. I forced myself to sit up and drink.

         When I took a sip of orange juice, I instantly retched again.

         Dear God, did this ever suck.

         It was like the more I slept the more tired I got, and now I couldn’t even eat. Not to mention my eyes glowed. If this kept up I would defiantly have no choice but to check myself into the nearest hospital. At least I didn’t have to go to work today—or at least, I would have had I not thought ahead to call in sick; my boss was none too happy with me, but nevertheless had said she understood and gave me the day off. I was thinking about this as I was leaned over the bathroom counter, brushing my teeth in the mirror, wondering briefly if it was just my hazy brain or if my eyes had in fact become duller since yesterday—

         An audible CRACK shattered my thoughts, and I looked down to where my left hand was griping the counter to see that I had literally fractured the area where I was holding.

         Had I been the fainting type, I probably would’ve passed out right then and there. It’s not everyday you find out that you can break counters with your bare hands.

         But as it was I did my damnedest best to remain calm, fighting the urge to dash to the phone and call 911 on myself. I didn’t know what to do next. I didn’t think this power, or whatever I had, would harm me per say but feared that it would. I didn’t know what was happening to me.

         “Abby,” I whispered. She was the only family I had left. I’m sure if I talked to her about what was going on with my body she could help me figure out what to do, like, for instance, whether or not I should go to the hospital. Aside from the ever-present headache I had acquired from my fall and the whole not-eating-just-sleeping stuff, I honestly felt fine. But probably be better to tell someone than stay silent any longer, I supposed.

         I looked at my reflection in the mirror, at my pale skin, glowing eyes, and then back at the counter.

         Yes, definitely.


	3. The Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two entire chapters in two days?
> 
> *pats myself on the back*
> 
> Not bad if I do say so myself.
> 
>  
> 
> As always, read and review!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I drove my rickety jeep—a rusting silver Wrangler that was already old when I_ _had_ purchased it—into town to the bookstore attached to the mall, where I purchased a brand-spanking-new copy of _Jane Eyre_ since my copy had long since begun to fall apart from overuse, and then I walked over to the huge food court and bought some fries and a bottle of water in hopes in that they would somehow entice my stomach into accepting food again.

         It didn’t work.

         It was 1:23 PM. I watched these kids building stuffed animals in _Build-A-Bear_ across from where I was seated while I read. There was this one step during the building process where the employee would hand each child a tiny red heart and they’d do this crazy chant before it—the heart—was finally sewn into the stuffed animal. The process, for some reason, made me think of myself when I was little and of the time my grandmother had taken me in there. I had left with a stuffed ginger bunny.

           At 1:34 PM precisely, I noticed Abby striding determinedly past the Sub Way. She saw me the moment I raised my hand, narrowed her eyes at me, and headed over.

           She wore skin-tight ripped jeans and a scandalous dark-flowered top that showcased her rather pronounced bust—(And no, I was not jealous. Ever tried running with a pair of melons attached to your chest? My boobs might be smaller than most, but they were _firm_ —no threat of getting slapped in the face while jogging with these ladies!)—. She flicked back her loose fiery-red hair as she leaned down to hug me.

           “Ugh, Janie,” she said, making a face as she took a seat across from me. “Your _hair_.”

           “It’s Jane,” I corrected, more from reflex than because her nickname actually bothered me. “And shut up! I happen to like my hair just the way it is, thank you very much. Believe it or not, not everyone dyes their hair to match the colour of hells inferno.”

         She leaned back. “What can I say? I’m _hot_ —inside and out.” She stole one of my fries off my plate and began to nibble it. “So what’s new? Dating anyone yet?” She waggled her eyebrows at me. “I’ve recently met a boy where I work who I gotta say is downright _edible_.”

         “Yeah, those are some bad, bad mental images I didn’t need. Thanks for that. Need I remind you that I am trying to _eat_ here?” I said, gesturing to my full plate of untouched food. She merely shrugged and proceeded to steal another one of my fries.

         “Well, he is. I tattooed a cobra on his stomach,” she said, “talk about having an iron stomach! But, anyway, you never answered my question. Unless—” She leaned forward then, her eyes widening dramatically. “Jane Bolster, are you in love with someone?”

         Rolling my eyes, I unscrewed the cap of my bottle and nearly took a sip of water before thinking better of it. “I hate to burst your bubble, but no. I have better things to do than run around, chasing after men.”

         “Try chasing after any man. You’ve never even kissed a boy.” I choked. “And by the way, what the heck is _that_?” asked Abby, gesturing to the book.

         “Oh, it’s _Jane Eyre_.” I turned it over and showed it to her. “See? It says it right there on the front.”

         “Seems boring.” She pulled my plate of fries closer to herself. “Now what’s this about a giant cube?”

 

“Are you sure you didn’t just imagine the whole transformers thing? I mean, you’ve dreamt weirder stuff than this and thought it was real when you woke.” Abby raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from the water bottle she held in her hand.

         We were sitting inside Silver—what I called my jeep—watching as people milled about the parking lot. Ever since I had woken up on Astraea’s back this morning I had forced myself to keep busy, finally managing to get my mind off sleep. My body was still the opposite though: a bag of stiff and sore. Every time I moved, it hurt. My head still felt like someone had wacked me with a baseball bat. I tried to keep my mind off the pain, silently ticking off numbers in my head to one hundred before starting over again.

         “No, Abby, I didn’t _imagine_ it.” Frowning, I took off the dark pair of sunglasses I was wearing and showed her my piercing now-blue-instead-of-green eyes. “When I woke up yesterday morning my eyes were like _this_.”

           “So what? You could’ve just as easily bought a pair of contacts—” She froze. Then she leaned into me and grabbed both of my cheeks. “Holy shit, are your eyes _glowing_?”

         I rolled my eyes. “Still think I imagined the whole thing?”

         “No, but—” Abby’s face was filled with disbelief. “—the whole thing still seems kind of impossible.”

         “Imagine how I feel. Your not the one who cracked a marble counter with your bare hands.” Shaking my head, I fiddled with the sunglasses in my hands. I let my eyes roam around the parking lot, only to freeze cold. “Um, Abby.” My eyes met the gaze of a cop who sat inside his cruiser, watching us. As quickly as I dared, I slipped the sunglasses back into place on my head. “Abby, I think that cop is staring at us.”

         She gave me an odd look, and turned in the direction I looked. “And? Last I checked we weren’t doing anything illegal.”

         Her words practically flew over my head as I stared at the cop. Nothing about the cop stood out per say, he looked normal enough with a long dark face and jutting chin, but his _eyes_. They were blazing blue. He glared at me from inside his cruiser. “I, um, think he might have seen my eyes.”

         “I doubt it.” She tapped the window glass. “Tinted windows, remember?”

         “Then why is he looking at us with an expression like _that_?”

         “I don’t know. Maybe he’s the type of guy who walks around with a poker up his ass.”

         “Yeah, probably.” Lowering my eyes, I started to examine his cruiser, feeling like a bit of an idiot for freaking like I did, when something caught my eye. “What the . . . ” I leaned closer to the window, frowning.

         “Janie?”

        Squinting, I tried to make out the symbol on the badge on the side of the car. I wasn’t certain, but it looked like, just below the word police, there were a series of triangles arranged in some sort of pointed face. _What the heck kind of insignia is that?_

         “It’s nothing,” I said.

         Abby looked at me skeptically. “If you say so . . . Hey, did you still want to give you a haircut?”

           “I should head home actually,” I said. “I’m kinda tired.” Wasn’t that the understatement of the year.

         “Sure, of course,” she said. “And, hey—” She put her hand on my shoulder. “Try not to worry so much. You’re making something of nothing. The cop probably just had a really shitty day or something. And as for your eyes—” She winced. “Maybe you should see a doctor.”

         “And tell them what? That I went out riding the other morning and got shot by a giant alien cube thingy.” I shook my head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I think I’ll just wait and see if it gets worse.”

       She still looked concerned, but at my words she nodded. “If you’re sure . . . And, hey, don’t be afraid to call or text if you need me.” She leaned in for a hug, before opening the passenger side door and marching off, her narrow hips swishing.

         Sighing, I put the key into the ignition and started the engine. Pulling out of my spot, I turned left and passed the cop cruiser on my way towards the corner. As I drove past, I glanced over, trying to see if the cop was still staring at me, but to my surprise the driver’s seat was empty.

         Had he left when neither of us was looking? Breathing deeply, I turned forward and tried to ignore the fear slowly creeping up my spine. _He’s just a cranky cop. Abby’s right. I’m getting all riled up over nothing._

Anyway, I really did have more important things to worry about. Such as staying awake long enough to drive home.


	4. Paranoia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: for those who don't know I altered the ending of this chapter! I'll post this comment again on the next chapter as a reminder
> 
>  
> 
> As always, read and review!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I went to bed almost as soon as I got home that afternoon, changing into a thin white-_ coloured nightgown before laying on top of the covers on my bed, which was queen size and pillow topped and lately one of my favourite places to be in the whole wide world. And then, fighting back sleep, I started reading _Jane Eyre_ for the hundredth time.

         As I reread that afternoon, I kept getting distracted thinking of everything that had happened. I kept thinking about how it had been nearly a week since I had last gotten up really early in the morning and ridden up to my ledge to watch the rising of the sun—something I’d been doing everyday for years. Then I wondered how my grandparents would have reacted to what was happening had they still been alive and with me and not spread out over the small stream that ran through the lower part of Astraea’s pasture.

         When I awoke at eleven to the sound of a tree branch rapping against my window, the room around me had grown dim; the _Jane Eyre_ novel was still open on my chest.

 

In the morning, I could barely stand up. This time the reason behind it didn’t stem from having spent the entirety of the night in an uncomfortable position—like on the back of a horse—but stemmed from an ever-increasing array of pains that made it impossible for me to stand or walk like a regular person when I emerged from my front door. It was as if I had aged ninety years overnight. I managed to put my boots on and laced them up, but as I went to stand, I couldn’t even tolerate my own weight; my knees and back too stiff to carry through what the motion required of them.

         I’d finished ambling around my farm in an attempt to work out the stiffness from my joints and was just doing whatever early-morning farm chores I felt I was capable of doing when a flash of white and black caught my attention. Glancing up, my breath caught in my throat, and a sense of almost foreign panic ran through me. It was the police cruiser from yesterday parked along the side of the road. At least, I assumed it was.

         Squinting, I looked to see if there was any weird insignia on the side, but all I could make out were the words Highway Patrol Police printed on the passenger side door. Normal enough, I supposed. This cruiser’s hood and doors were also white instead of black; unlike the vehicle I’d seen yesterday. My eyes scanned every inch of it that I could see though, and they narrowed as I spotted what appeared to be a small red dot on front end of the car’s hood.

         What. The. Heck.

         Then I knew I’d lost my mind, when I realized that not only could I see no one sitting in the passenger seat . . .

         But neither was anyone in the driver seat.

         “No. No way.”

         I’d been watching. No one got out of that car! At least, I didn’t think I’d seen anyone get out of it. Was an officer at my house? I glanced over to find the front porch barren of any people. _Besides_ , I thought to myself, _there’s no way anyone would have been able to walk from the car to porch in a matter of only seconds._

         I looked at the cruiser again, stuck between wanting to curl up someplace and hide and wanting to march on over there to see if I could figure out for myself what the hell was going on. Before I could decide, however, the driverless car moved forward, pulling right before my disbelieving eyes back onto the road and taking off within the speed limit down the street.

         It took me nearly passing out from a lack of oxygen to realize I’d been holding my breath. To say that I was now officially terrified and paranoid would be the understatement of the year. My bodily pain was suddenly forgotten. As I stood there just one thought and image kept flooding through my mind.

         _That car had no driver._

_That car was freaking driving itself!_

Without thinking, I turned and ran as fast as I could in my crappy condition towards Silver. I’m not sure what my intention was, maybe just to drive to over to Abby’s. I felt a strange tingling building throughout my body as I ran, until—of all things—a grid of sorts appeared in my vision and expanded onto the jeep just as I was nearing the driver’s side door. Immediately I felt this strange change within me, like I was suddenly more complete. And it took me a minute to realize that I was no longer in my body.

         Correction.

         I _was_ in my body. My body just was no longer _human_.

         I had transformed into my rusting, silver jeep Wrangler.

         _What. The. Fuck._

         I panicked and immediately lurched forward, somehow managing to brake just before I crashed into my fence.

         Astraea reacted too. Because my front bumper had stopped mere inches from where she had been grazing on the other side of the fence, she came straight up on her hind legs with a neigh of terror, before whirling toward the hill over which she disappeared down to the opposite end of the pasture.

         I watched her go—strange to think that considering how I was now a jeep and as far as I knew no longer had any eyes, but I did—and then turned my attention to Billy The Goat as he charged towards me with his head lowered, ramming hard into my side, denting it.

         Now what?

         I sat there unmoving for an entire minute, every part of me wanting to change back to a human but unsure of how to initiate the change back or if such a change was even possible now. Was I stuck like this? I tried to picture myself as _human_ , as changing back into a _human_.

         _Come on, damn it! Change back into a human!_

         It was a long, terrifying moment before I felt any sort of shift within me.

         Then, as strange a feeling as it was, I could feel my body suddenly split apart and begin to shrink down in size. When I opened my eyes, I was back to being me. Human-me, at least. Complete with the yellow-knit wool sweater and blue jeans and boots I’d put on in this morning—and, well, everything.

         Without a moment’s pause, I turned and ran back to my jeep sitting parked a few feet away. I climbed into the driver’s seat, slammed the door closed, turned the key in the ignition, and then I speed-drove down my laneway. On my way into town I kept an eye for any cop cruisers, nearly jumping out of my seat every time I saw a flash of black or white.

         By the time I arrived at Abby’s apartment complex, I nearly dashed out of my jeep and to the main entrance. My heart never stopped racing, and the panicked feeling never once left me the entire time, even as I pressed her buzzer.

         It felt like an eternity passed before I heard her familiar voice on the other end.

         “Abby? It’s m-me.” I tried to keep my voice from shaking—to ignore the intense fear and the ever-present pain in the back of my mind—but by then a burning had gathered in my eyes, and it wasn’t long before I was wiping at the tears blurring my vision. There was an immediate buzz from the door next to me and I pulled it open, slipping in and running down the carpeted hallway. As soon as I saw her fire-red hair pop into view from around the corner, I launched myself at her, yanking her backwards towards her apartment.

         “What the hell—Jane—what the hell’s going on?” The concern was evident in her voice, but I didn’t stop pulling until we reached her apartment and had shut the door.

         “I . . . I don’t know! Something happened! I saw a police cruiser—” I watched as her expression hardened. “No . . . this was a different one! I saw—the car had no driver!”

         “Jane . . .” She sighed, pulling away from me slightly. “I know seeing that cop yesterday really set you on edge for some reason, and you’re right to be concerned about what the hell happened to your eyes, but—”

         “N-no! That’s not it! After the car drove away—I was going to come here—but s-something h-happened—” Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “I turned—I transformed into my freaking _jeep,_ for God’s sake!”

         Closing her eyes, she frowned. “Are you even hearing yourself right now?” Opening them, she looked into my red and teary face and her expression softened somewhat. “Look . . . I know we haven’t been the closest these past few years. Living on their farm all by yourself . . . but that’s no excuse for the shit you’re pulling right now. Cops are all over the city, Janie. You’re going to see them sometime or another, even outback where you live in the country. And as for you transforming into your jeep . . .” She shook her head. “That’s just ridiculous.”

         “I know.” And I did, I could see the logic in her words and didn’t blame her for thinking what she did. It _sounded_ impossible. Hell, it _felt_ impossible. “Listen, I know how crazy and absurd all of this sounds. I know, okay?” She nodded, handing me a tissue. “But I’m telling you, sister-to-sister, that this really did happen. I don’t know why and I don’t know how, but somehow I scanned my jeep and transformed into it.” I paused. “And I _know_ that cruiser had no driver.”

         After a long moment of silent staring, Abby sighed. “Look, maybe . . . maybe it did happen just as you say it did. I don’t know. I wasn’t there. Just like I wasn’t there when you said you saw the cube and those transforming robots. But if you’re that adamant that this all really happened, then I suggest going to the police.”

         I shook my head. “I can’t go to the cops—the cruiser was one of them, remember?”

         “Then go back to the place where this all began.” I gave her a look that I’m sure was pretty incredulous. “Think about it, all these problems only started arising after you said you got zapped by that cube thingy. If you go back to where you last found it, maybe you can get some answers.”

         I blinked. “That makes . . . sense actually.”

         Abby nodded. “And if going back and finding the alien cube doesn’t work, then just try mimicking your fall. At the very least, I’m sure it’ll knock some sense back into that thick head of yours. Maybe then you’ll finally let me give you that haircut.” She ruffled my loose hair, and despite the fear and pain I was in, I couldn’t help but laugh. Trust her to make light of what I found to be a terrifying situation.

         Despite her words, I knew I simply couldn’t dismiss all that had happened on account of finding the cube. Whether anyone had been there to witness it or not, _I_ knew. And as long as I knew, something told me that this was never going to leave me alone.


	5. Abducted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: for those who don't know, I altered the ending of the last chapter!
> 
> Read and review!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I woke up the next morning in the dark and lay there quiet but awake for a while, not_ ready to start the day yet, listening to the songs of birds I couldn’t name. I only knew that the sound of them was familiar to me. When I sat up and pulled open the blinds and looked out the window, it seemed a sea of near-darkness stood just outside my bedroom.

         It was still dark when I stole out the front door and crossed the yard to the shed. Going out in the early morning was almost like entering into a world where time ceased to exist, or the world in a painting, or in a dream. Not quite as safe as in a dream because I did have to watch my horse, especially if we rode up the rolling hills or entered the forest, I always had to be careful of our footing, but still nothing like the ordinary world of daytime.

         I found Astraea waiting for me by the fence and greeted her softly by name, before pouring her measure of oats in the hanging bucket before her, and beginning to groom her.

         Once more, I found myself dazed by the beauty of her. She was rather large for an Arabian mare with an inky black mane and tail. She moved gracefully; her head had a proud, high carriage; her dark eyes were full and intelligent. I had only owned her for three years, having purchased her as a two-year-old when I was nineteen. But even now, I couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that such a gorgeous animal was my own.

         When I had finished, I slid around her, mounted, and moved off.

         Billy The Goat was attempting to break into the shed, and when he saw us, he wriggled through the fence to meet me, and I leaned back in my seat and stood there, letting him come up and nibble on my boot for a moment. When we went on he followed for a little while, and then turned back to the fence—probably to try and break into the shed again, I thought. Better that than the house; I _still_ had marks on my front door from that little bugger having beat on it so.

         I cantered Astraea across the pasture to the western side of the fence. Without bothering to use the gate—I never did—I simply tapped my heels lightly to her sides and we soared right over it. Soon we were cantering in the direction of the tumbling hills on the other side.

         All the clouds had started to turn blue, and behind us the sky was a faraway, fiery orange.

         The higher we ascended the wider the sky was, and the farther stretched the fleet of tattered clouds. It was getting lighter by the minute; some of the clouds even blazed crimson. I felt both uneasy by my situation and astounded by the lonesome vastness surrounding us.

           Should I continue on or turn back? I wondered, though deep inside I knew my answer. I was no quitter. Of course, I was continuing on. Too much weird stuff had happened to me since coming up here to simply walk away. That’s not to say that turning back wasn’t the logical choice of the two. Because it was. If I retraced my steps back to the ranch, I would be safe. Or at least, safer than I was currently, trotting nose first into possible danger. It was probably the right thing to do. But nothing in me would do it.

         As I rode, I tried not to think about the things that hurt—my shoulders and back, my feet and hips—but succeeded for only short bursts at a time. Before we had left, I had taken two Tylenols and then an aspirin but so far nothing had worked. The pain was still there, throbbing like a hammer on a rusting nail.

         Within half an hour we had come to my ledge and stopped. I looked down and took in the ranch with my eyes slightly down. I could see Astraea’s large pasture along with the stream that ran through the lower half of through it—zigzagging between the rocks and the green and the trees. The air came alive with the sound of the wind whipping the trees and we moved off.

         When at last we reached the overlook, I stopped Astraea and gazed across the expanse. I scanned the ground for the cube, half hoping half dreading to see it, but saw only a crater in the earth where it had been.

           It was gone.

           But _how?_

         I stared out over the land, too subdued to even go over and examine the crater, watching the sky lighten. Behind me, the sun rose bright, and below me, far in the distance, the mountains twinkled in the sunlight. The silence was loud in my ears. The absence felt like a weight. This is what I came for, I thought. This is what I got.

         I had already known the cube wasn’t going to be here. I had seen that fact for myself, after all. But still, I was so out of my mind after I’d woken up from my fall the last time I was here that some part of me had hoped I’d only imagined the cube being gone. _How could such a massive artefact simply vanish?_ It was a question I kept asking myself as I wheeled my mount and started down the way we had come.

        

Riding down the mountain again we made it home in pretty good time. I set Astraea loose in the pasture before walking in the direction of the shed. I had just put away my grooming kit, and had stepped to my front door, prepared to go in, when a single black and white cruiser turned onto my laneway. I felt a stab of uneasiness when I realized that the cruiser was an exact replica of the one I’d seen sitting in the parking lot two days ago.

         My fears were confirmed when Officer Poker-Ass himself stepped out of the vehicle with the same foreboding glare fixed to his features as he started towards me. Without a second thought, I pulled open my door and rushed inside, locking it with both the latch and chain.

         There was almost an ominous silence before I heard what sounded like a nosy sigh and a rather masculine voice. “Jane Bolster?”

         “Yes,” I said, altogether more cautiously than I had in the time I’d spoken that same word to a cop who’d pulled me over last October for a broken taillight.

         “Miss Bolster, if you’ll come with me down to the station, I have some questions I’d like to ask you pertaining to a missing piece of government property.”

         “I’m sorry, am I under arrest?” I backed up sharply from the door like a caged animal. “I haven’t stolen anything!”

         “We have reason to believe you did.”

         “Well, I _didn’t_ ,” I ground out. “And unless you have a warrant, I’m not going with some stalker ass cop who thinks he can trespass on my property and convince me to leave with him on the _assumption_ that I stole something!”

         There was silence on the other side of door.

         Correction.

         There was the gun of a rather angry-sounding engine on the other side of door. Then, there was a low, menacing growl. “Listen, _femme_. I’m not someone you can speak to like that. Insubordination will _not_ be tolerated, hum—” The voice cut off abruptly. “Do you want answers?”

         The question caught me off-guard, and I frowned, relaxing my defensive stance slightly. The answer to that seemed simple enough, considering I had no idea just what exactly I’d seen or what was happening to my body. “Yeah.”

         “Then you _will_ come with me.”

           Startled, I stood there for several long moments, waiting to see if he would demand anything else or start pounding on my door. But when nothing of the sort happened, I dropped my defensive stance completely. I still had no idea what to expect. This man didn’t come across as very trustworthy in my books; but then again, if he had the answers to some of the impossible questions I had circulating in my head, maybe he had reason to be.

         And I _needed_ answers.

         My mind made up, I paced quickly into the kitchen, grabbed the sharpest small knife I could find, and shoved into my right boot. Then, I headed out and locked up, before turning and staring at the car doubtfully.

         “You comin’ or not?” He yelled from the car, the engine revving a little.

         I was still weary of him, but nevertheless I ran over to the car and hopped into the passenger seat. No sooner had I finished clicking my seatbelt into place, then the vehicle shot forward, the driver seemingly in a hurry.

         “What the hell’s going on?”

         The driver didn’t answer as he quickly pulled a U-turn in front of my shed, his tires stirring up dust and gravel as he sped down my laneway. My heart gave a leap when he turned left instead of right, and I realized he was taking me farther _away_ from town rather than towards it.

         “Um, hey, I think you made a wrong turn back there—”

         He ignored me.

         “Look, if this is about the cube, I don’t know anything about it.” His eyes shot to me as he drove, and I was shocked to see that his previously blue eyes were almost red.

         “I have no idea what you’re referring to, femme.” He growled, but he sounded distracted.

         I rolled my eyes. “Right. You have no idea what I’m talking about, just like you have no idea that the police station is in the opposite direction than where you’re currently going.” I gave him a look, and his eyes narrowed.

         “Silence, femme. You will tell me everything you know, soon as I’ve ditched this auto-scum.”

         I was about to argue back, fed up by his tone and way he kept barking orders at me, when the sound of a police siren stopped me. Shifting around in my seat, I looked out the rear window and was shocked to find another police cruiser speeding after us.

         My mouth hanging open I turned back around, about to demand he tell me once and for all just what the hell was going on, only to find that the officer had disappeared.

         I began to pant, and tried not to hyperventilate as I watched as the steering wheel continued to turn completely on its own, instead of sending us spiralling for the ditch like I thought it would.

         _Oh my God. The car is driving itself. This is_ not _happening to me! Please tell me this is not happening to me!_ In answer to my prayers, suddenly all the locks on the doors went down seemingly by themselves.

         _Fuck_.

         “Let me out! Let me out right now!” My voice began to rise in pitch as I fiddled with my belt buckle, which unfortunately, appeared to be stuck. “Let me out, you overgrown toaster!”

         There was a deep, metallic chuckle. “I think not. Your information on the location of the AllSpark will be entirely too useful in defeating the Autobots once and for all.” _What the_ — _AllSpark? Is that what that cube thingy is called?_

         “I don’t know where it is! I already looked! It’s gone!”

         “And yet my scanners detect a Cybertronian signature on you.” Something in his voice said he knew something I didn’t.

         What he said _should_ have caught my attention, but by then I was pounding on the dashboard, trying my darndest to get him to let me go. When that didn’t work, I tried weaselling out of my seat belt.

         “Help me! Help me please!” I stretched as well as I could and turned in my seat, waving my arm frantically at the approaching police car in the rear window. I turned back and began to pound on the window, with the hopes that it would either break, or get him to release me.

         I heard a snarl. “Cease that at once, femme, or—”

         “Or WHAT? You’ve already kidnapped me! Like hell I’m just going to sit back and let you get away with it!” I snarled right back. “LET. ME. OUT.” I swung my fist as hard as I could at the window, putting a nice little crack in it.

         And I prayed that someone would save me from this crackpot.


	6. A Quick Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another chapter!
> 
> Just a heads up, now that break is over and school has started back up again the updates will be slower. I'll still try to post at least once every 1 or 2 weeks.
> 
> Anyways, read and review!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_“LET ME OUT!” I pounded as hard as I could with my fists against the window, feeling_ the pain in my head intensify with each jarring blow, and watched as the crack I’d made in the glass spread even further, creating what looked like a spider web on the window. I struggled to undo my belt buckle, trying to slide out of the seatbelt at the same time, only for it to tighten and pin me against the seat.

         It was then that I remembered the kitchen knife I’d slipped into my boot. Lifting up my leg, I bent my knee, and slipping my hand into the side of my boot, began digging around for my knife. As turns it out, in my efforts to free myself I had struggled and flailed about so wildly, the point of the knife had actually started to cut into the top of my foot. I ignored the pain for now. As soon as I held the knife, I swung it first at the window—finally managing to shatter the damn thing—before quickly holding it up to my seatbelt, close to where the side of my waist was, and sawing through it.

         No sooner was I free, than a pair of hands suddenly appeared out of nowhere and grabbed onto my wrists. Looking up, I was shocked to lock eyes once again with Officer Poker-Ass. If I’d thought his expression was grouchy before, he looked _livid_ now.

         He snarled at me. “You’re going to pay for that, femme!”

        I struggled as hard as I could to break free, but the harder I fought, the tighter his hold became. Pain shot up my arms. But oddly enough, whenever I relaxed, even for a second, his grip seemed to relax a little. I didn’t stop to think about that though, I was too caught up in the immense terror I was feeling.

         “Let me go, you bastard!” Without stopping to think better of it, I head-butted him as hard as I could, causing him to rear back—be it from shock or pain, I couldn’t tell—and loosen his hold on me. I didn’t waste a second. Ignoring the wave of pain ricocheting through my head, I reached forward and yanked on the steering wheel. The car swerved violently. Both the man and the car roared furiously; the former of which, grabbed my arm and forcibly removed me from the wheel, his iron grip sending bursts of pain shooting up from my wrist as I continued to struggle against him, trying to ignore how lightheaded I was suddenly getting.

         The car jolted, and I think I heard the sound of metal crashing painfully against metal from somewhere behind us.

         Next thing I knew, I was airborne, screaming as I sailed through the air. I closed my eyes, expecting to wind up splattered on the cement, but surprisingly that never came. Something wrapped around me lightening fast. Opening my eyes, I was more than shocked to find myself staring up into the face of a giant robot. The details of his face were a little difficult to see because of the sun shining down overhead of us, but from what I could make out, his eyes were the most intense electric blue I had ever seen, a contrast that somehow worked well with the red of the pointed chevron on his forehead.

         He peered down at me with an unreadable expression, before bending down and depositing me—surprisingly gently—onto the ground below. Then, before I even had time to blink, he spun around and shielded me from a darker, black and white bot who had rushed him.

         I couldn’t move. I watched as Officer Poker-Ass fired at my rescuer, only for the whiter bot to spin neatly out the way, turning back with a kick that sent his assailant wheeling backwards. Suddenly his eyes landed on me.

         _Uh oh._

         Holding my damaged arm, I tried to make a run for it, but he was too quick; and before I knew it, I was being held rather painfully in his grip. I gasped as the breath was squeezed out of me.

       “Take one step Autobot, and this human is _dead_.” As if to prove his point, he griped me even tighter.

         My ears began to ring, and in my vision I saw _stars_. I breathed harshly, everything hurting, spinning. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I passed out, and quite possibly _died_ , from the way he was holding me. Whether that was truly his intention, or he’d just forgotten how to hold me, I knew if something didn’t happen to make him let go of me soon, I could kiss this life goodbye. My mind screamed at me to do something.

         I could feel the intense fear pumping adrenaline through my body, but there was something else I could sense arising there too. It was the same something that had caused me to transform into my jeep yesterday without meaning to. Focusing on that with what little consciousness I had left, I tried to summon up the same feeling I had felt arise deep in my gut yesterday.

         It was a long moment before any sort of shift within me happened.

         Then, I exploded.

         Okay, I didn’t _really_ explode per say, though it sure as hell felt like I did. My body simply split apart into what felt like a zillion pieces, before reforming back into a larger-sized, metal version of me.

           What.

           Immediately, I felt the hand holding me let go as Officer Poker-Ass was thrown backwards onto his ass. I didn’t pay him any attention though; I was too busy trying to keep from falling myself.

         Turns out, I had no idea how to stand in this new . . . body. The slightest of movements threw me off balance, to the point where I could barely even stand. As I flailed about like a chicken, trying my darndest not to fall face-first onto the ground, or worse, backwards onto Poker-Ass—who was still sitting there, by the way—something red flashed in front of my vision, warning me that my tanks were less than ten percent full.

         Again—

         _What_.

         At this point, I was dangerously close to panicking. I tried changing back, but all that succeeded in doing was to prompt the red warning to flash across my vision again. I heard Officer Poker-Ass pushing himself up behind me and imagined his hands reaching for me, squeezing me. Suddenly scared witless, the fact that I could barely stand fled my mind, and I tried to run, only to stumble over nothing and topple over. Before I hit the ground, however, a familiar pair of white hands caught me and I felt my upper torso being supported against a hard, metal chassis. At the same time, I heard the gun of car engines approaching. I looked over, but saw only blurred shapes.

         “Stand down, Barricade. You are outnumbered and outgunned.” The voice that spoke was deep and metallic and seemed to come from whatever was supporting me. Not as deep as the bot who had kidnapped me, but definitely deep. It sounded smoother somehow, without a rise in pitch or a stutter.

         I heard what sounded like a growl, the sound of metal shifting, and the rev of an engine as a powerful car pulled away quickly and took off. At the same time, I heard a pair of vehicles as they skidded to a stop somewhere behind us, and then heavy footsteps.

         I wanted to turn and look, but I no longer felt like I could move. I just . . . had no energy left. I guess I had used everything up on Poker—Barricade. Perhaps that’s what that flashing in my vision had been—a warning I was almost out of energy.

         “Miss, are you alright?” I felt an odd tingle throughout my body, and myself being turned over. I managed, somehow to remain upright with the support of the weight against my back, despite the wobble in my legs, and the fact that the world around me had grown incredibly dim, like I was looking at it through a pair of unfocused sunglasses.

          Suddenly arms were behind my back and legs, and I felt myself being lifted off the ground. Whoever these _bots_ were they weren’t acting like Barricade had, still, I couldn’t help but panic. Fighting my exhaustion, I struggled as hard as I could in the arms.

         “Calm yourself, young lady. I am not going to hurt you. My only concern is that of the physical condition of your body, and you are very weak. My scans indicate that you are dangerously low on energon.” There was something in his voice that sounded _off_ , though it made me think of either a police officer or a paramedic.

         As I sagged against him, I caught a brief glimpse of the insignia on his shoulder; it looked like a red alien face: the same insignia I had seen on the car of the bot that had rescued me.

         Blinking open my eyes, I tried to focus on his face. I saw a rather grumpy looking profile with the same piercing blue eyes I had seen on my rescuer, though a bit darker. He looked down at me.

         “I’m sure you can explain to us just what is going on when you wake, but for now, I am going to put you into stasis lock.” I think he fiddled with something on the back of my neck, but by that time, I was _so_ tired. “Rest femme, I will do all I can.”

         My eyes closed, and within moments I was unconscious.


	7. Dream?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter took a while to write.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, read and review!
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying the story so far!
> 
>  
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_Was it all just a dream?_

I actually had to ask myself this.

         Was it all just a dream?

         At first it seems that it was. That the standing here, listening to my grandfather blend pancake mix in the other room, _is_ reality, while the whole them dying-and-transformers thing had been nothing more than some crazy dream we’d laugh about over breakfast.

         Except looking around, I knew I couldn’t have possibly dreamt an entire four years in a single night. There was too much I remembered. Too many small details I _wouldn’t_ have remembered had it all been a dream.

         Taking a single step backward, I paused as I realized that I still had my boots on. When I looked down, the blue jeans, yellow-knit sweater, and the black boots I’d put on this morning all looked the same as they did before I’d mounted Astraea. I didn’t have a scratch on my body. No aches. No pains. Nothing. I held up my phone and stared at my reflection, checking to see if I still had blue eyes, but my eyes were just as they had always been—they were green.

          I was human.

         _But if it all really was just a dream . . . what about Astraea? Where is she?_ I spun around, suddenly frantic, and ran toward the living room window that overlooked the pasture. It was empty. No horse. No goat. But when I glanced down at my feet, I could see the laced boots I’d put on this morning. Abby had given them to me for my twenty-first birthday, a little over a year ago. I didn’t _have_ these boots when my grandparents were still alive. I was wearing these boots this morning. I was _still_ wearing them now.

         I turned to the window again and looked for Silver. It too was gone. In its place sat my grandmother’s bright yellow VW Beetle, a little dusty looking, but otherwise in excellent condition. Nothing like how it had looked after—

         I spun away. This wasn’t right. This could _not_ be happening. I had experienced the accident first hand, I had seen—

         I’d had nightmares before—falling nightmares, giving-a-presentation-in-front-of-an-audience-naked nightmares, being-chased-down-a-hallway nightmares—but I’d always been able to force myself to wake up. I stared down at my wrist, the one that felt perfectly fine, untouched as it had been by Barricade, and I pinched as hard as I could.

         Pain shot up from where I’d compressed my skin.

         No. This had to be a dream. It _had_ to be.

         Then I heard something. Someone was coming down the stairs. My head shot up of its own accord, and I froze with my hand clutched around my wrist. Part of me wanted to turn and see whom it was, but I stopped myself. If this really was a dream, then seeing her now wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring her back or make it okay that she was gone. Nothing did. Nothing ever would.

         “It’s only a dream.” I said to myself.

_What makes you think this is only a dream?_

         Turning towards the voice, I found myself looking into the light blue eyes of my grandmother.

         She looked exactly how I remembered her; down to the nurse outfit she wore, down to the roundness of her body, even down to the soft blonde colour she used to dye her hair in order to keep out the grey. She looked like she could be touched. Like she wouldn’t fade away into nothingness the moment I moved to embrace her tightly. But then I gazed harder into her eyes, and it occurred to me that instead of being blue like I had first assumed they were—because that’s what colour her eyes had been while was alive, blue—, her eyes were a burning fire of violet, and I took an involuntary step back. My grandmother just stared at me, sympathy showing in the lines on her face.

_You do not want this?_

         The voice that came from her throat sounded like my grandmother’s, but at the same time, it was definitely not. This voice almost had a reiterating quality to it as she spoke. It certainly wasn’t like any human voice I’d ever heard.

         When I refused to answer she tilted her head a little, as though in question.

         I swallowed, clutching my wrist closer to myself. “Who are you?”

         She didn’t answer.

         I tried again, more insistently this time. “Who are you?”

         **_We_** _are you._

         I blinked. _What kind of answer was that?_

         “No,” I said, shaking my head, “you’re not. You’re not me, and I’m not you.”

         _We are you._

         “No—”

         _You are we._

         “I’m not—”

         _Together we are **one**._

         By this point, I’d accepted that this was either a really messed up hallucination or dream. Despite that this wasn’t anything like the dreams I usually had concerning my grandparents—there was no darkness, no terror, no panic, for one thing—, I still refused to acknowledge it as anything _but_. And yet—

         “What do you want from me?” I said.

         My grandmother smiled at me a little sadly.

         _We do not **want** anything from you._

       “Then why are you _here_?” I asked, folding my arms tightly against my body.

         She didn’t answer, just continued to stare at me silently while the warm smell of pancakes wafted from the other room. I shifted from foot to foot; feeling on edge in a dream that made little sense to me, and getting ready to bolt the moment my grandfather appeared in the doorway to summon us to breakfast. My grandmother saw this, and tilted her head, her expression kind.

         _You do not want this?_

         “I want this more than anything,” I whispered, gazing around at what had once mundane. “But . . .” I shook my head. “This isn’t real. _None_ of this is real.” I looked at her bitterly, wishing with my all heart that it was my real grandmother standing in front of me, instead of this violet-eyed sphinx. “And neither are you. You’re _not_ my grandmother.”

         She stared at me with sympathetic eyes.

         _You are in pain,_ she said, but not as a question.

         I looked at the ground, then up at the painting of the tiger hanging above the back of the couch, anywhere but at my not-grandmother’s eyes. Finally I said—

         “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

         _We are, and we are not._

         “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. Then I shook my head. “Nevermind. Look, can you at least tell me whether or not this is a dream?”

         _Your body is unconscious, but your mind is very much awake._

I paused. “So I’m in a coma?”

         _In a sense, yes._

         I took a deep breath. “So how does this work? Do you know where my body is currently?”

         _You are with my children as we speak._

My heart leapt into my throat. “They aren’t . . . _hurting_ me, are they?”

         _You are quite safe._

Somehow that didn’t reassure me, but only because I was weary about being lulled into a false sense of security by what I was certain was only a coma-induced-hallucination.

         She cocked her head to the side.

_You doubt our words?_

I frowned. “I doubt your existence.”

         _Our existence is your own. We live through each other._

         “No, we don’t,” I said, and my frown deepened. “This is only a dream.”

         _This is not a dream. Nor is it a hallucination._

“No? Then what is it?” I asked. Our eyes locked and something in hers unveiled itself, and I looked away.

         After a moment of silence, I swallowed. "Why won't you tell me who you are?"

          _We are you._

I laughed hollowly. "No, you're really not."

          _We are you._

_You are we._

_Together we are **one**._

         With a rather sad expression still on her face, she began to back away, and I noticed that the world around us seemed to be melting. Turning back, I tried to talk to my not-grandmother, to ask her what was happening to me.

         She was gone.

         There was a bright flash, and a sudden feeling of falling.


	8. Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Just a heads up that I made some minor altercations to this chapter and the previous one! I'll try not to make a habit of this, I swear -.-'
> 
> Read and review! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_The first thing I was aware of was a foreign heaviness in all my limbs. They felt numb,_ unused. At first I felt confused, thinking I was back home on the farm and had passed out asleep on top of my bed after a tiring ride out on Astraea. But then an unfamiliar thrumming sound met my ear, and I became aware of a discomfort in my wrist. It took me several attempts to force my eyelids open, but when I did, I quickly realized that I wasn’t at home at all.

         I was in a large, white, sterile-smelling room with bright lights.

         The first thought that crossed my mind was that of a hospital; and considering the blurriness of my memories, it wasn’t an unfair assumption on my part. I tried thinking back to what may have landed me in the hospital. Had I fallen off Astraea? Had I gotten into a car crash? And then, the thought, that perhaps I had checked _myself_ into the hospital due to the pain and craziness I’d been experiencing popped into my mind. Then, as I was lying there, I suddenly remembered.

         I had been kidnapped . . . by giant robots.

         Yeah.

         Looking around, it occurred to me that the room I was in looked nothing like a normal hospital room. For one thing, the room was far too large and spacious. There were no privacy curtains, or beds, or chairs. I sensed that while there _were_ monitors and machines, they were nothing like I would have guessed. I also couldn’t see any windows or doors, just distant, indistinct shapes on the walls, along with a strange set of lights coming from an adjoining room—

         _Oh_.

         “I see you are awake.” A figure stepped out of the doorway into the brightness of the room I was currently in, and I realized that those weren’t lights at all, but glowing blue eyes. It slammed into me then that this was a _robot_ I looking at—the same robot that had helped me after I passed out on his shoulder, but a robot all the same.

         The thrumming sound in my ear quickened as I panicked and tried to bolt from my lain position on the bed, only to be held down by strong pair of hands.

         “Whoa, easy there. No need to panic—”

         I glanced up sharply to find the yellow robot towering over me with a stern but not unkind expression. I was still weary of him, but nevertheless I stopped. When he seemed satisfied that I was done trying to fight him, he released his grip from my shoulders and took a step back, letting me sit up.

         “That’s better,” he said, nodding. Then he cocked his head to the side, and I felt an odd tingling throughout my body. “Scans indicate that your body seems to have stabilized now that your levels of energon have been brought up to functioning perimeters. Your injuries have adequately healed, but for now I would like you to remain in the med bay.” He paused, studying me with an intense look. “Miss Bolster, I would like very much to know how it is you came into contact with the AllSpark, or the ‘cube’ as you may recall it.”

         “I was—” I paused, realizing that my voice sounded different. Not _very_ different—it was still deeper than the average young woman—but it was smoother somehow, and laced with hints of static as I winced from the soreness. “I was . . . riding my horse.” I stroked my throat, wondering if I’d overdone it with the yelling at Barricade. “When I came across it.”

         “Did you make physical contact with it in any form?”

         “No—” I frowned, thinking about his words, before pressing a hand over my chest. “I was too far away.” Absentmindedly, I reached for my golden heart-shaped locket I always wore around my neck. “It zapped me, I think—” I broke off, realizing that my necklace wasn’t there.

         But I _never_ took my necklace off, unless to clean it.

         I looked down, seeing that not only was my necklace indeed gone, I was also no longer wearing my yellow-knit sweater and jeans, but rather, now possessed a metal body. My eyes widened.

         “What—” My mind was still a little blurry, but I remembered two bots fighting. Barricade and another whiter bot. As Barricade’s red eyes flashed across my mind, it immediately took me to the shift I’d willed myself to make while he was squeezing me. I couldn’t remember much after that, except being held by the whiter bot and then by this bot. Looking up at him, I frowned, when I realized that I _still_ had no idea what was going on. “Who _are_ you bots?”

         The robot looked surprised. “Do you not know already?”

         “No,” I said, and I gazed at him wearily. “Up until about a week ago I never even knew that you guys existed.”

         “Well, that would explain why you reacted the way you did.” He shook his head in amazement. “Ironhide thought it was because you were a Deception spy posed as a human. My scans register you as completely Cybertronian.”

         I grew even more confused. I kept seeing Barricade reaching for me, squeezing me, tighter and tighter. I grew nervous, and I heard the thrumming sound in my ear increase. Just what was that anyway?

         “Calm yourself, femme,” the yellow bot said. “To answer your earlier question: I am our chief medical officer, Ratchet; we are autonomous robotic organisms from a planet called Cybertron, but you may call us Autobots for short. We’ve allied with your human government, so there is no need to worry.”

         Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the blackness the action brought. Everything was happening so fast, I felt like I was swimming around lost at sea. “Ratchet, what’s happening to me? I don’t—I remember getting struck by what _seemed_ like a flash of lightening at the time, but after that . . . everything just started happening.”

         “What started happening?”

         “Well . . . I . . . I transformed into my jeep, for one thing.” Thinking about that now, I wondered if I could scan and transform into _any_ vehicle. If I could, then it was kind of ridiculous that out of all the hot and speedy vehicles I _could_ have chosen to transform into, I got stuck as a rusting, rickety, old jeep. I couldn’t help but snort, before shaking my head. “I also stopped eating, and started sleeping a lot.”

         He nodded his head. “That would make sense, considering the rapid changes your body was undergoing. I imagine the change from human to Cybertronian didn’t occur in a single night.” He paused, rubbing his chin. “That would also explain why you were critically low on energon when we found you.”

         Holding my hand up in front of my face, I flexed it slowly, studying it curiously. I was surprised to find that my hand looked and behaved like a hand, with the only differences being that it was silver and made of metal. As my eyes moved from my hand down to my arm, it was then they came across a cord coming from my body. I frowned again. “Could you take this out?”

         “I’d rather not, but I suppose your systems have stabilized enough to no longer require an energon drip.” There was a huff, as he leaned down, and carefully began to remove the IV line from my arm. “I have called for Optimus, but I would like you to take care when moving. The injury you sustained to your wrist is still healing, and you have not yet adjusted to your . . . new form.”

         I nodded, bending my now free arm, before awkwardly swinging my legs over the side of the berth I was sitting on. I wasn’t in pain, but that uncomfortable feeling deep in my body was present in me still. “When will I get to go home?”

         “Unfortunately, you cannot leave right now.” I froze, my hands griping the side of the berth on either side of me, and Ratchet vented. “We are uncertain just what is happening, or whether we can trust you, but for your own safety, you will need to remain in my general vicinity, so that I can keep an optic on the AllSpark radiation within your body and how your body reacts.”

         Despite the fear I felt clawing into my belly at his words, I nodded. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get away even if I tried—partly because I was outnumbered, and partly because I could barely stand in this form, let alone survive a high-speed chase if that’s what it came down to. I was worried about Astraea and Billy, but what could I do? I didn’t exactly have an outpouring of options to choose from at the moment. I was trapped.

         “Optimus is standing outside.” I lifted my head to see Ratchet eyeing me with a rather strange look in his eyes. “Do you think you are up to speaking with him a little now?”

         I hesitated a moment, then I nodded. The sooner I got this over with the better.

       There was silence a moment, and then the swoosh of a door sliding open. When I looked, I was startled to see a red and blue bot entering. He was by far, the largest and most regal looking of all bots I had encountered so far. Even in my new form, I felt minuscule compared to him.

         “Jane Bolster.” Optimus inclined his head, coming to a stop near the foot of the berth I was sitting on, and I watched as Ratchet stepped through the door behind him, giving us privacy. “My name is Optimus Prime. I believe we have much to discuss.”

         I wasn’t sure how to answer him, so I remained silent. His presence evoked two major emotions within me: awe and terror. Awe, because he appeared, even to me, to be noble and strong, with power radiating from him even while he was doing nothing more than _stand_. Terror, because . . . well, because he was a giant alien robot, from another freaking planet, who held my fate in the palm of his hand.

         However, there was something else about him too. I realized that, while drinking in the contours and shape of his face, he looked almost . . . young. Not naïve or anything like that—on the contrary, his battle-hardened expression gave away nothing of what he was thinking—but still, younger somehow than his stance and baritone voice suggested he was.

         “Huh.” I tilted my head to the side, and watched as he mirrored my movement, blinking. It was then I realized that I was just sitting there, mutely staring up at him with a blank expression on my face, and I dropped my chin, feeling myself blush. Did robots even blush? Oh, it didn’t matter. I felt my core temperature rise up a notch, anyway.

         I wasn’t sure, but amusement seemed to fill his gaze for a moment. “Young one, you have no reason to be afraid. I’ve simply come to ask you some questions, that is all.”

         I frowned. “I’m not _that_ young.” Then I realized what I’d just said and grimaced. “Um, sorry.” I played nervously with my fingers in my lap, before I realized what I was doing and stopped. “I don’t think I have all the answers you’re looking for, but I’ll do my best.”

         He nodded, the amusement in his eyes fading as he metallic lips straightened grimly. “Perhaps then my first question would be . . . to please explain how it is you came into contact with the cube?”

         I nodded and began explaining it to him. I started with how I had encountered the cube by chance, watching as his optics widened as I went into detail about how I had been struck by a strange light that had snaked through the sky. I specified how I had seen other transformers clustered around the cube, and later, how I had awoken to find that the cube was gone. I even mentioned the self-driving police car I’d seen a few days after. I explained my encounter with Barricade, pausing with difficulty as I struggled through the haziness of my memories in order to explain the circumstances that led to me transforming into the form I was in now.

         By the time I was done providing a detailed summary of everything that had taken place from the time I’d first landed eyes on the cube, a little less than a week ago, to now, Optimus Prime had seated himself on the berth across from me, and I could tell I had his undivided attention.

         “So that is how you came to possess the AllSpark, I am honestly not pleased by this. It puts you in extreme danger.” He vented, shaking his head. “But if the AllSpark chose you, we cannot simply extract it and let you live a normal life.”

         Wait. Did that mean that the cube was _inside_ of me somehow?

         I freaking hoped not!

         “Hold on— _chose_ me?” I narrowed my eyes. “Are you saying that the AllSpark has a will of its own?” Shaking my head, I stared at him questioningly. “Just what _is_ the AllSpark exactly?”

         “We are uncertain: we know nothing of its origins, only that it holds the power to create life. After casting the cube into space, we searched for it across the cosmos, hoping to find it before the Deceptions, but . . .” He narrowed his optics into slits. “It seems we were too late.”

         I was so confused. “Hold on—so the AllSpark is different than the cube? Or are they the same thing?”

         “The cube is essentially the vessel that contains the AllSpark.”

         “And I absorbed the AllSpark, while the Deceptions took the cube,” I said, but not as a question.

         He blinked. Then he nodded slightly.

         Closing my eyes, I rubbed my temple. “So, let me get this straight. You’re telling me that I have a possibly-sentient-alien-life-breathing-artifact . . . _inside_ of me?”

         He hesitated, then nodded.

         I took a couple of deep breaths, trying not to freak, while he waited, watching me with something akin to sympathy in his eyes. How was I supposed to handle all of this? All of this sounded pretty impossible, and yet . . . I _was_ changing; there was no doubt about it. I had already changed.

         But if the AllSpark was indeed sentient, why choose me? Why was I so special?

         I narrowed my eyes in thought.

         But if it _was_ sentient . . .

         “That would make . . . sense actually,” I said, more to myself. I struggled to sift through some of my more hazy memories. Something about the AllSpark possibly being sentient just seemed to make sense to me for some reason. I saw a flash of violet optics instead of blue, and would have jumped, had they not been associated with my grandmother’s face. Why did I remember seeing my grandmother with violet eyes?

         And why the hell did they seem so familiar?


	9. Walking The Walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Another chapter! 
> 
> Read and review!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_“You need a hand?” Ratchet asked, as he stepped over to me and bent down._

         Currently, I was sprawled on the floor after having catapulted forward and fallen when I’d tried to push myself up from the berth I was on. Optimus had left a little over an hour ago, and since then I’d been berth-ridden while Ratchet gave me a data-packet, containing information on Cybertronian anatomy, through a data port located on my wrist.

         It was . . . a strange feeling, to say the least. It was sort of like being bombarded with a pile of information that your mind had to scramble to make sense of. It might not have been a conscious effort on my part, since my computerized brain analyzed the information automatically, but it was still overwhelming. Mainly, because it was like the information just sort of came out of nowhere. In a matter of only seconds, I went from knowing next to nothing, to suddenly knowing that Cybertronians had a thing called a spark in the middle of their chests.

         Either way, I laid there for what felt like forever, and a later check of time with Ratchet _proved_ that was indeed an hour I was laying there, listless on the berth.

         I was eager to start walking, but a miscalculation of my strength landed me face first on the floor. Lifting my head, I pushed myself backwards onto my knees, before taking the hands Ratchet offered me.

         “I guess I underestimated my own strength,” I joked weakly. Then I sighed, shutting my optics for a second, as I allowed him to heft me with disturbing ease to my feet. “I’m no good at this.”

          “You merely need to relearn your center of balance.” He gripped my arms firmly, holding me steady as I awkwardly shifted in an attempt to keep from falling over. “Your entre body mass has changed. As soon as you find your balance, you will master walking again in no time.”

         “Easy for _you_ to say.” He raised an eyebrow at me, and I sighed, dropping my gaze. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I guess I’m just having a hard time taking this all in.”

         Ratchet’s glare softened ever so slightly, before he nodded. “Walking and everything else will come eventually. For now, I would suggest you try practising on your own here in med bay.”

         Taking a deep breath, I nodded, and Ratchet lowered his arms. Immediately my legs wobbled as I tried to stand on my own, but I knew I couldn’t let a little thing like _that_ deter me. I was standing on my own. I could begin walking at last.

         Elated, nervous, keeping my arms out for balance, I staggered the first steps to the counter. I’d hoped that walking in this form wouldn’t be _that_ hard to get a hang of, but _twice_ I nearly fell before I managed to reach the edge of the counter and pull myself back into a standing position. I lingered there a moment, clinging to the hard countertop surface like it was my lifeline, until I realized that there was nothing to do but go, so I did.

         I attempted to head down to the opposite end of the counter, hobbling with one hand on the countertop beside me for a while, before turning around stiffly when I reached the end and then heading back up again. _I’m walking!_ I thought. _I can walk!_ Not that it was a new action for me; I walked all the time. I walked for hours on end in my work as a waitress. I walked around the house I lived in and pasture. I walked for pleasure and purpose. Walking was as easy as breathing. But after about fifteen minutes of walking back and forth alongside the counter, it was clear that I wasn’t walking so much as I was relying on the countertop to keep me upright.

         So letting go of the counter, I carefully angled myself away from it and took a step. _I can do this,_ I thought _. I can walk. All it takes is some minor adjustments each time I step. Piece of cake._ And for a second or two, I _was_ doing it. I was walking the walk—

         Which, as it turned out, was not very much like walking at all, as it resembled walking less than it did hell.

         I began wobbling and swaying almost immediately, my foot nearly catching on my leg as I forgot to walk with my feet facing forwards. Each step was a toil, as I had to brace myself against each step, lest gravity’s pull cause me, with my tremendous, uncontrollable weight, to fall forward onto my face. I felt like I was playing tug-a-war with the earth itself, only with my body instead of an actual tug-rope.

         I took one step, then another, moving along at barely more than a crawl. I hadn’t thought that relearning how to walk would be easy. I’d known that it would take some time getting adjusted to this new body. But now that I was actually walking, I was less sure that I _would_ adjust. Relearning to walk was different than I’d imagined. Not that I’d spent much time imagining it, considering I’d not in a million years ever imagined I would ever wind up as a giant, metal _robot_ , of all things.

         I was almost to the far wall when the door I had my hand resting on next to me suddenly slid open, startling me into nearly recoiling as though I’d been burned. My foot caught on my calf, and I gasped as I lost my balance.

          I reached out, trying to grab onto _something_ to stabilize myself, even as Ratchet dropped what he doing and rushed over. The hands that _did_ wind up grabbing onto mine, pulling me forwards sharply, were a shock though, as they didn’t belong to Ratchet.

         The next thing I knew, I was once again being supported against a bright white chest, the red insignia of the Autobots staring me down in the face.

         “Um, thanks.” I could _feel_ my entire body burning, my hands pressed against the hard edges of the chest my torso was leaned against. I could feel the way the arms supporting me seemed to shift, before they abruptly pushed me back by my shoulders, only to grab my arms when I wobbled.

         Trying to ignore the odd vibration coming from the chest in front of me, I was careful to hold onto the pair of arms keeping me steady, before I tipped my head back. Immediately I found myself looking into two of the iciest blue optics I had ever seen in my life, even a lighter blue than Optimus Prime’s pair of glowing optics had been. For an entire moment, I just stared into them, memorized.

         Until I remembered where I was, that is. Then the embarrassment of having nearly collided with this bot, only for him to pull me to my feet, came rushing back full force. I tried to take a step backward, only to yelp when my foot tripped over the air it seemed, and for the black and white bot to once again grip my arms to keep me steady.

         “I’m so sorry!” I cried, my entire body heating up in embarrassment. “I swear to you I’m not doing any of this on purpose—” Then I paused, realizing something. This bot looked familiar. My eyes roamed over his form, and I cocked my head, trying to remember where I might have seen a black and white bot. All that came to mind was Barricade, and the other police cruiser . . .

         Wait.

         “You . . . _you_ were the police cruiser,” I said.

         He lifted an eyebrow at me, probably wondering if at some point I’d landed on my head. He seemed to study me carefully for a few moments, staring at me with an unreadable expression, before he lowered his arms.

         “My alternate form _is_ a police cruiser, yes.” His voice was the same I’d heard back when we were with Barricade. It was deep, slightly metallic, and more or less devoid of any emotion. “What of it?”

         “N-nothing,” I stammered, taken back by the coolness with which he addressed someone he had fought to protect less than a . . . how long had I been here again? A day? I shook my head. “I just wanted to thank you for helping me.”

         “I was merely preforming my duty,” he said. I nodded, before taking a small step backwards out of the personal-space-bubble I sensed he had around himself. He just seemed the type. I’m not sure what gave me that impression. Perhaps it had to do with the way he held himself so perfectly, so . . . stiffly.

         Then it hit me that I’d managed to take a step backwards without tripping and needing assistance. I might have still swayed and needed a second to steady myself, but I _had_ done it.

         To experiment, I took another small step backward, then another.

         I barely wobbled and didn’t fall.

         My triumph must have shown on my face because Ratchet, after having taken a single step forward when I’d started, nodded at me, before turning to the police bot. “So, what’s wrong? Is your wing-con bothering you?”

         I glanced over in surprise, and sure enough, two car doors were situated on his back like a pair of wings.

         The bot flicked a wing, but his expression remained the same. “No. However, I do have a dent that needs buffing out.”

         “Come over then, and I’ll take a look at it,” Ratchet said, nodding to one of the berths across the room, before turning his attention back to me. “Do you require any rest? Or would you like to practise walking some more?”

         “I’m not tired yet, so I guess I’ll continue,” I answered, after thinking about it.

         “Very well,” he said. “Do you require my assistance? Or do you think you can you handle it on your own for the time being?”

         I shook my head. “I think I’ve got this.” At least, I _hoped_ I had this. I think I’d had enough embarrassing moments to last me a lifetime without adding more onto it. I also didn’t want a repeat of the face-plant I’d taken earlier.

         Ratchet nodded, before heading off to tend to the police bot. Part of me was kind of interested in watching Ratchet work the dent out of the bot’s outer wing panel, since I figured that might be something I should know for myself, especially considering my bulky armour was all dinged up and covered in scrapes and scuffs marks on top of peeling silver paint. Seriously I looked gross. Less like a lady, and more like a walking, talking dump truck.

        Still, I knew I could not allow such thoughts to distract me from my task. Unless I wanted to spend the rest of my life crawling from one place to another, I needed to learn how to walk. So, with my arms out for balance, I slid one foot forward, once again commencing my awkward trek from one side of the room to the other. Once I nearly slipped, but managed to catch myself at the last second, only to slip yet _again_ not even a minute later, when I took a corner too fast and nearly ended up on my ass had I not been near Ratchet who easily reached out and grabbed me, thankfully preventing that from happening. After that, I was forced to pay even closer attention for my walking.

         It wasn’t until I was about ready to give up that it really hit me that I’d circled the room over a dozen times, and tripped less than half of that. It wouldn’t be easy walking around crowded areas, but I . . . I was actually walking!


	10. Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long to come out, exams ate up a lot of my writing time -.-'
> 
> So, without further adieu, here it is!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I awoke at dawn but despite awakening on a hard metal berth, I couldn’t bring myself_ to so much as sit up for an hour, turning over instead to lay on my side while thinking of the softness of my own bed. My dreams had awakened me repeatedly throughout the night, sometimes causing me to online my optics and cry out, much to Ratchet’s alarm. They died down a few hours before dawn, but then there was something else that kept me awake: the silence. The irrefutable proof that I wasn’t at home in my bed like I should be, but somewhere altogether different and unfamiliar, completely alone.

         It wasn’t long after that I felt through my body the telltale tingle of scan, and I sighed, before onlining my optics fully, blinking at the brightness of the room I was in. Ratchet was watching me from a few feet away, with a square cup of something pink in his hand.

         “I wondered how long you were going to pretend to be in recharge,” he said, as he handed me the cube.

         I shook my head, smiling weakly, before glancing down at the cube and back up again. “What is it?” I asked in a casual tone that belied the hunger—was it hunger? It felt different somehow—I felt. I gazed down at the contents of the cube. It was filled with a sort of glowing pink, liquid-like substance.

        “It is med-grade energon: a substance that humans would refer to as ‘food’, so to speak,” Ratchet said. When I did nothing more than stare at it, he raised a brow meaningfully.

         I looked at the cube doubtfully. It didn’t look like _food_ to me. I sniffed it. It also didn’t smell like anything. I might as well have been smelling grass. Still, I lifted the cube to my mouth anyway. If I was going to be a Cybertronian, I might as well learn to live like one, which unfortunately meant eating what they ate. I tipped the cube and took a small sip.

         My optics widened.

         It didn’t taste bad at all. The taste was hard to pinpoint exactly. It was sort of warm and spicy and sweet all mixed into one. Nor was it watery-like in texture and runniness, being a bit thicker. But all in all, the energon went down easy enough and was surprisingly _good_ to drink.

         Ratchet nodded. “Good. Now. To address the issue of your armour—”

         “What’s wrong with my armour?” I asked before I could help it, staring down at myself. I took in the numerous dents and paint scraps and rust, the last of which was driving me crazy with itchiness as the flakes fell onto my protoform. When I glanced back up he raised an eyebrow at me, and I flushed.

         “Okay, so maybe it needs some work . . .” I said, realizing that technically that was a lie as what it needed was a _lot_ of work. “Are you able to fix it?” I asked, and then took another long sip of energon.

         “Well, I could, though it would take quite a bit of rebuilding as I would have to remove all the areas infected with rust.” Looking me over, he vented, before shaking his head. “But it would be easier if you just took another alternate form.”

         I looked at him. “Like what?”

         “Well, the choice would be up to you,” he answered. “If it helps, I can contact Optimus and have someone escort you to the main hanger to see if we have one that fits your body’s specifications.”

         “That would probably be best,” I said, after thinking about it. As much as I was going to miss having oldie-goldie Silver as my alternate form, even _I_ could see that I was dire need of an upgrade.

         He nodded again. “While we wait, I have some more data-packets I would like to give you.” At my apprehensive look, he vented nosily. “These packets are smaller than the one I gave you yesterday, so there is no need to worry.”

         His words did little to reassure me that I wouldn’t end up feeling overtaxed like yesterday, but nevertheless I guzzled the rest of my energon—earning a disproving look from Ratchet—before sliding down onto my back and opening the port on my wrist.

         For the next half hour I did little more than lie there as Ratchet administered data-packet after data-packet. While Ratchet was correct in his assumption that the data-packets wouldn’t be as enervating as the one previously given, they still took some getting used to. Part of me doubted I would ever get used to it. But Ratchet kept a close eye on me, taking time to make sure I had adjusted to each data-packet before sending me another.

         I was just about finished digesting a packet Ratchet had given me on what the majority of the pop-ups and commands in my vision were, when there was a sound of the door whooshing open. I looked up and saw the police bot from yesterday holding a datapad walking into the room.

         He took one look at my prone form on the berth, and stopped. “I was under the impression that I was to escort the femme to the main hanger within the earth hour. However—” He glanced down at his datapad. “I can reschedule it to a later time if she has been rendered temporarily unavailable—”

         Ratchet waved his hand, straightening from his position over on of the metal tables. “That won’t be necessary, Prowl. The femme was merely taking some time to adjust to the data-packets I gave her—”

         “Um, excuse me.” I lifted my hand, waving it slightly, as I looked at them both. “I’m _right_ here.” When both of them looked at me with open confusion—well, _one_ of them did anyway, Prowl more or less just stared—, I shook my head, swallowing the urge to snort. “Seriously, I have a name you know. And it’s not _the femme_.”

         Both of their optics brightened, while Ratchet nodded slightly, moving to stand beside the berth. “Very well. Jane, then.” He scanned me. “Everything appears to be functioning normally, however, I still want you to take it easy for a few days. If at all you should feel something even slightly abnormal, you are to report straight to me.”

          The sheer intensity of his gaze threw me off, and I found myself frowning. “I’m confused. It almost sounds like you’re _releasing_ me from med bay.”

         “That is because I am.”

         “But I thought—” I paused, thinking better of it. Pushing myself up into a sitting position, I took the hand he offered me, and allowed him to pull me to my feet. I wobbled precariously for a moment, before my legs suddenly remembered how to be legs, and I was able to stand on my own.

         “So where do I go after this then?” I asked meekly, afraid of his answer. Where I _wanted_ to go was home, but by now I understood enough that I probably wasn’t going to be allowed to leave here yet.

         “Prowl already intends to see you around base after you have acquired another alternate form.”

         “Right.” I turned to face said bot, who to this point still hadn’t moved from his position near the door. Meeting his icy blue eyes I suddenly felt self-conscious as I remembered the poor state my armour was in, and the fact that I had fallen on him not once but twice. Still, I realized that there was nothing I could do but go with him, so I did.

         I took a couple of shaky steps forward, stopping a little ways in front of him. It was then I realized how much taller every other bot was compared to me. Optimus was huge; there was no doubt about it. He had to be at least twenty-eight feet tall, while Ratchet was something like twenty-four feet. Prowl was shorter—the shortest bot I’d seen as of yet actually—measuring I’d guess somewhere around twenty feet. I was even less than that. I only came to his mid-chest. Part of me wondered if that was because I used to be human, or if because I wasn’t done growing yet. Perhaps that was why my armour was still bulky on me. Height-wise I had to only be around fifteen or sixteen feet tall.

         Prowl nodded, looking over my shoulder to nod at Ratchet, before opening the door. I took a couple of steps forward, intending to walk through after him, before I remembered something and stopped and turned.

         “Thank you,” I called to Ratchet as he was turning away. Pausing, he nodded to me, looking surprised. And I ducked my head in embarrassment, before walking out of the room after Prowl who was waiting for me by the door.

         He gave me an expressionless look for a moment, before walking off without a word. I followed him out of the med bay and down the hall, walking as fast as I could to keep up, keeping my eyes on his white back and wings. It was slow going. Human soldiers busily dashed back and forth down the halls, forcing me to pay even more attention to my feet and where I stepped. Thankfully though, Prowl seemed to sense after a couple of moments that I was struggling because, without turning around, his pace suddenly slowed, making it easier for me to play my clumsy game of hopscotch over the humans as we went.

         By the time we reached the main hanger fifteen minutes later, I was on the verge of begging Prowl to carry me, humiliating or not. I was deathly afraid I was going to end squishing someone. At least the majority of the humans we approached knew enough to get out of my way. Fast. If you asked me, some of slower ones were playing a game of Russian roulette.

         Other bots were in the hanger. A big black bot was standing in the far corner, with a human soldier at his feet, looking up at him as they spoke. My optics widened at the sight of the two massive cannons sitting on his forearms, but the bot’s face looked aloof as he gazed back down at the human. A pair of similar looking bots, one lime green and the other reddish, were decking it out near the far entrance of the hanger, causing a bit of a commotion amongst the nearby humans, who scrambled to get out of the way. Finally, Optimus Prime was standing not too far away talking with a group of soldiers. When he glanced up, he nodded at Prowl and me, before returning to his conversation.

         “Miss Bolster.”

         “Jane.” I automatically corrected, turning to look at the bot standing beside me. Prowl nodded his head in acknowledgement, but said nothing as he walked off in the direction of a group of vehicles lined up near the very back. I bit back a sigh, before staggering after him.

         There weren’t that many vehicles to choose from. At least, not too many that I could actually imagine myself being. I had a helicopter, a jet, a semi, a GMC Topkick, a Ferrari . . . My optics were immediately drawn to the Ferrari model, a gorgeous sunshine yellow, but wound up deciding against it, since it was a tad too flashy for my tastes. The only other one that caught my optic was the adorable little Toyota Supra.

         It was sleek. It was sexy. Not to mention, it was a brilliant yellow, much like the Ferrari. I smiled. My grandmother would have loved it.

         Now . . . to figure how to change into it.


	11. The Phone Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Two chapters in one day?
> 
> The keyboard is on fire, baby!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_“No fucking way!”_

After I had figured out how to scan the Toyota Supra, which was unsurprisingly just as easy as the first time I’d accidently done it to Silver, Prowl had taken me on a tour around the base. I’d checked my new armour; enjoying the shiny yellow paint I now had, along with the fact that I was slightly taller. My body had either finished maturing, or it had changed with the transformation, because I now reached up to Prowl’s shoulder, and I was curvier. I figured the last part was due to the fact that my armour fit tighter to my body, making me look less like a peewee adolescent, and more like the adult femme I was.

        God, did I just refer to myself as a femme?

         I mean, I _was_ , but that was beside the point. It hadn’t been all _that_ long since I’d lost my humanity, and yet here I was, picking up on their phrases and language. Was there even any human part of me left?

         After we had traversed most of the base, I finally managed to convince Prowl to at least let me make a phone call home. I don’t know if it was because he was sick of me constantly bringing it up, or if because the comments about my animals starving to death had actually registered with him, but either way I finally got him to agree to one phone call.

         I think I shocked us both when, after he agreed, I instantly transformed back down into a human. Hell, I shocked myself. All I’d been thinking about was how tiny human phones were compared to the bots—and boom! I was human.

         Of course, I was immediately taken to Ratchet. Turns out I was an odd triple-changer, of sorts. I was still fully Cybertronian, Ratchet had said, I just also happened to be able to transform back into my former human self. I think part of me already knew that—after all, hadn’t I transformed back after turning into my jeep?—and had just forgotten. Either way, my initial shock wore off quickly, and I was eager to make my phone call. I think Ratchet was reluctant to release me from the med bay, but with no real medical reason to keep me he let me go with the promise that I would go to him if anything else strange happened. Of course, this was all strange to me, but I didn’t tell _him_ that.

         Using one of the army’s phones that was on a secure line, I dialled Abby’s cell number and she picked up on the first ring, shocked to hear it was me. Turns out that the police had contacted Abby the very day the Autobots took me, stating that I was a missing person and that she needed to let them know if she saw me. To say that I was surprised to find out that the visiting officer’s name had just happened to be Barry Cade would be an understatement.

         I was downright shocked.

         I needed no other confirmation that the Decepticons were still after me. I just made sure that Abby knew enough _not_ to call the crazy psycho bot and tell him that she’d spoken with me—which was a task all unto itself considering I couldn’t _tell_ her that he was a crazy psycho bot.

         Initially I’d considered lying and telling her that I _was_ home, but of course, in her disbelief of Poker-Ass’s words she had already driven out to my farm and seen for herself that I wasn’t there. I was touched by her concern for me. And even more so when I found out that she’d been staying at the farmhouse for these past few days in order to look after Astraea and Billy. I knew she hated visiting my grandparents’ farm, so the fact that she was willing to put aside her own feelings for the sake of me meant a lot.

         Still, I knew I couldn’t tell her the truth of what had happened. For her sake, the less she knew the better. Not to mention, I doubted the Autobots and government would be very happy with me if I spilled my guts—except that I already had, sort of, when I’d fled to her apartment, babbling on about driverless cars and turning into a car—either way, she sure as hell wasn’t making this easy!

         “Bullshit.”

         “I’m telling you the truth! Believe it or not, I’m with—joined the military!”

         “And I’m telling you its bullshit. No one just up and leaves behind everything to join the military. Least of all you.”

         “It’s not that simple,” I said, though of course summed up prettily it was totally that simple. Just without the ‘joined’ part. It was more like I was I kidnapped and then carried into it after I fell unconscious.

         There was a snort. “Yeah right. Like you would ever leave behind Astraea. Your farm. _Their_ farm.”

         I paused.

         “I just don’t see why you’re lying to me,” she said in a quiet voice.

           I was about to give her my whole well-maybe-you-don’t-know-me-as-well-as-you-thought-you-did spiel and to explain that I didn’t know how to break the truth to her, but I stopped myself. “I don’t want to put you in danger,” I admitted.

         “Worry about yourself,” Abby said, but not unkindly. “Are you sure you’re even okay?”

         “I’m sure,” I said. Though I wasn’t sure I believed it.

         “You better not be lying to me. Are you even with the military right now?”

         “I am.”

         “By choice?”

         I hesitated. “Sort of.”

         “Sort of?” She sounded angry. “Are you telling me they’re holding you against your will?”

         “It’s . . . complicated,” I said slowly. At least that much was true. “Look. There’s only so much I can divulge to you over the phone.”

         “I swear to God, Jane.” Her words were an angry hiss. “If this is your sick idea of getting back at me . . .”

         “Just who do you think I am?” I snapped, my frustration and hurt getting the best of me. I rubbed my temple, trying to calm myself. “Whether or not you believe me, this _is_ happening. I just need to know if I can count on you to look after Astraea and Billy for me while I’m gone.”

         “I don’t know what I believe,” Abby replied, after a long moment, “but while you’re gone . . . I’ll look after the animals for you.”

         “Thank you,” I breathed.

          “One of these days you’re going to owe me an explanation though. And I mean the long-winded kind.”

         I nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “I’ll tell you everything as soon as I can. I promise.”

         “You also have to promise to let me cut your hair the next time I see you.”

         “Deal.”

         “Good,” she replied. “Because you really need it.”

         “My beautiful hair one-hundred percent disagrees with that statement.”

         Abby laughed for real at that, and the tension eased a bit. I heard her bite down on what sounded like an apple. “Did I forget to tell you that I had a friend over to the farm yesterday?”

         I laid a hand against my locket. “Oh no.”

         “Oh _yes_. That little shit goat of yours rammed him in the ass when he bent over to tie his shoe.”

         I tried to swallow it down, but the laughter bubbled up anyway. Billy The Goat head-butting another guy naïve enough to bend over in his presence? Priceless. I could just imagine Abby’s scrunched up face as she’d said it too. Some things never changed.

         “It’s not funny! Now, thanks to that freaking goat, he refuses to come over.”

         “Let me guess,” I said, struggling through the laughing tightness in my chest. “It was the edible snake-boy from your shop.”

         “You have no idea, Janie.” There was an audible sigh. “His abs were _divine_.”

         _Here we go_ , I thought to myself.

 

 

Abby and I wound up talking for another half and hour before I was evidently kicked off of the phone by one of the soldiers. Honestly, I was just surprised that they’d let me talk as long as I did. After my phone call with Abby ended, I found myself headed back through the human hallway into the larger one of the Autobots.

         Without bothering to transform up into my bipedal mode, I walked the winding hallways to where the Autobots sleeping quarters were located, only transforming once I reached the room that Prowl had said was mine.

         After I’d fiddled with the passcode on the door for a bit, I lay spread out on my strangely not uncomfortable metal berth, too exhausted to wonder much about the room I was staying in. It wasn’t only that I felt odd in my new body and tired from the day’s hike around the base: it wasn’t all that different from when I’d slept in the med bay yesterday night. And yet I couldn’t exactly fall asleep. In what seemed like a fugue state, I thought about the peeling wallpaper in my bedroom. Funny how I’d never realized just how rundown the farmhouse was getting when I had lived there. It was an old house, but I’d never thought about it all that often. So many times I’d meant to repaint my bedroom walls. So many times, I’d forgotten or put it off. Now I might never get the chance.

         I rolled over onto my side to face the direction of the door; half wishing that someone would walk in and lie down next to me on the berth. It was ridiculous, and yet I still ached for the sensation of a body pressed up against mine. Not for love. Just for company.

         Finally, I offlined my optics and fell into a deep recharge.


	12. Ocean Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fun to write :)
> 
> As always, read and review!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_When I awoke the next morning at four o’clock, I lay there unmoving on my berth for a_ while, unable to fall back asleep. As the time passed, a familiar restlessness bloomed in my chest, nipping at me, wanting me to get up—the same feeling that pushed me to rise and ride out to watch the rising of the sun like I did every morning. I ignored it. Instead I remained on my side staring unseeingly at the far, colourless wall until seven o’clock.

         The halls were surprisingly empty of any bots, minusing the dozens of human soldiers I still came across. I didn’t care. Too tired to be hungry, I skipped breakfast, thus saving myself the trip to the rec room I’d have taken to grab a cube of energon, and made my way in bipedal mode to the main hanger. It too was nearly empty. And I guessed that most were off on a mission of some sort.

         With nothing else to do, I decided I might as well take this golden opportunity to venture outside. Figuring if nothing else, the fresh air would do me some good. I also wanted to be alone.

         As I started walking in my uneven, unbalanced way, I didn’t miss how some of some of the soldiers were giving me quite a few odd looks. Some of which were even borderline hostile. My cheeks burned, but I tried not to let their stares, or the fact that with my newly advanced hearing I could hear their every half-whispered word, get to me. I wasn’t naïve enough to assume that the all the soldiers here would just up and accept me simply because I used to be human. If anything, I understood how my sudden, unexplained transition and consequent arrival on base could be viewed as suspicious. Sure, I had the AllSpark inside of me. But aside from that, what use was of I to them? Me, who could barely work, let alone wield a weapon or fight?

         I was a pebble. I was a leaf. I was a ripple in a pond. I was nothing to them and they were everything to me.

         There was no denying or escaping it. As I stumbled across the hanger, heading toward the open front entrance of the hanger, trying to brush off the stares and the words of the soldiers around me, I considered my options. There were only two and they were more or less the same. I could retrace my steps back to my room and hide there for the rest of the day, or I could go forward to where I intended. The truth of my situation, I acknowledged grimly, would follow me wherever I went. I could only choose between facing it head on, like a hammer on a nail, or caving into my urge to crawl back into the hole where I had come.

           And so I walked on.

         The path that led to the beach was surprisingly green in places, and dry and rocky in others. I walked in a state of wonder at the beauty and the silence, while the sight of the ocean lifted my spirits enormously, not only because it was shimmering and beautiful, but also because the beach itself was barren of any people.

         For the next hour I did nothing but pace back and forth along the shoreline, leaving deep footprints in the sand, enjoying my privacy to walk as I pleased and the quiet all around me. I had every intention of practising well into the rest of the day, but instead I transformed down and sat a little ways from the shore. It was warm out, the sun shining down on me. I took off my sweater, rolled up my pants, and lay with my eyes closed, feeling pleasantly warm but not hot. When I opened my eyes, I saw a seagull perched on a nearby rock. He seemed to be studying me.

         “Hello, seagull,” I said, and he tilted his head and eyed me before lifting off into the sky.

         I studied the ocean waves. My grandmother had loved water. She wasn’t much of a swimmer, but for hours she could sit and stare at the rippling, sparkling surface. In truth, open water had always frightened me. The thought of not being able to see what was beneath me, or touch in the instance I got tired had always kept me from enjoying myself in deep water, be it on a boat or swimming. I’d always been afraid I’d drown. Taking in the vast blueness in front of me now, I was no less afraid, but I understood just what it was she’d seen.

         When at last I stood and adjusted my clothing, I transformed up and I decided that it was probably time to head back. I was getting hungry. With one last look at the ocean, I turned and started back up the way I had come. Step by step, my optics were on the sandy and pebbly trail, my feet sometimes slipping beneath me as I climbed up the bank.

         I walked to the main hanger and wandered down the halls until I reached the rec room. Thankfully, no bots were inside the room. I went to the energon dispenser, grabbed an empty cube and poured myself some energon. I sipped it experimentally. It tasted the same as yesterday, if not a little better. I stared at the machine a long moment, before shrugging and filling a second cube. Picking up both cubes carefully between my hands, I staggered my way out of the room and down the hall, intending to bring them back to my room. Before I could reach it, however, I turned the corner and walked smack into the hard chassis of another bot, spilling both cubes in the process.

         I let out a stunned gasp, realizing that not only was my chest and neck covered in pink energon, but so was the white-chest-armouring of the bot I’d rammed into. I clutched the cubes to my chest like a baby, though of course it was futile, they had already spilt. All over us, and the floor.

         I opened my mouth to apologize, but froze when I looked up and met the bright blue optics of Prowl. Of course, it had to be _him_. The one bot who I’d already made an idiot of myself in front of more times than I could count, now had a pink, sticky chest, all thanks to me. All at once, the chicken-shit thought I’d had of running and locking myself away in my quarters was all too appealing.

         He blinked, looking just as shocked as I was, and my optics shot to the floor. It was then I noticed the pink-stained data pad he must’ve dropped, and I quickly bent to retrieve it.

         At the same time he did.

         Our heads collided sharply, with a metal clang. I reeled backwards, the force of the movement sending me tottering back as my already questionable balance gave out. Without thinking, I flung out a hand at the last second and grabbed him in an attempt to stop my falling, but succeeded only in pulling him ass over teakettle with me. Together, we landed in an ungraceful heap on the floor.

         _Ow, ow, double ow, triple—wow, he’s heavy._ Lifting my head, I tried to sit up, but found that I couldn’t. A great weight on my chest stopped me. Tilting my chin down as far as it would go, I grimaced at the feeling of the energon coating my neck cables, before tensing when I realized that not only was Prowl deadweight on top of me, but that he was sprawled facedown on my chest with smoke coming from his head. My chest tightened.

         “Prowl?” I carefully shook him with my arm that wasn’t pinned, before shaking him harder. “Prowl?”

         No response.

         For a moment, all I could do was stare. Then Ratchet came racing around the corner; his buzz saw whirring as his optics darted around wildly. When no intruders manifested out of the shadows, Ratchet stared down at us a long moment, before tilting his head to the side a little. A couple of scans later, he vented and his buzz saw disappeared.

         “Ratchet?” I said, still in shock, as he knelt down with a hiss of hydraulics to one knee. I looked down at Prowl. He still wasn’t moving. “I . . .” My optics snapped back to Ratchet, filling with tears, as suddenly the stress of everything that had happened since I’d found that damn cube caught up to me. _“I think I killed Prowl!”_

 

 

I hadn’t killed him. I mean, I could literally feel the pulsing of his spark overtop of mine, so how could I have?

         Turns out that Prowl just has a fault in his logic center that causes him to crash whenever he is confronted with the unexpected. And so, I guess my stumbling into him and spilling energon over him and clashing heads with him and then pulling him onto me as I fell was just too much for his logic center to handle, and his system crashed on top of me.

         Ratchet, bless his spark, at least had the decency to not crack up laughing after I’d explained to him what had happened. The most likely reason being because I was crying hysterically during my explanation. I’m sure I would laugh about the situation later, but for now I just felt pretty shitty about the whole thing. Sure, Ratchet might not blame me for had happened, but whose to say that Prowl wouldn’t once he woke up?

         I should’ve just stayed at the beach. Or, better yet, I should’ve just stayed in my room.

         “You need to drink your energon.” Ratchet held the cube out me after it had sat untouched next to me for fifteen minutes. I’d been too busy contemplating my life’s choices.

        “I think I’ve lost my appetite,” I said, but I took it anyway. Then I returned my gaze to Prowl who was lying listlessly on his stomach on the berth across from mine. “Is he ever going to wake up?”

         “He will,” Ratchet said, then paused as he waited for me to take a sip before he continued. “However, I administered a mild sedative into his system before I carried him in here—”

         I nearly choked on my energon.

         “—so it won’t be for a while,” said Ratchet, his hands reaching for me as I bent over coughing, but I only waved him off. “He doesn’t get nearly enough recharge,” he continued. “So when the opportunity presents itself I occasionally bring him in here to rest.” He spoke in a tone that suggested this was a regular thing.

        “And you have to _drug_ him to do it?” I asked in disbelief, massaging my throat as I took another small sip of energon.

         “Well, yes.” He shot me a dry look. “He wouldn’t come in otherwise.”

         I opened my mouth to say something, but then stopped. Better to say nothing. I looked over at Prowl, watching with semi-amusement how his wings twitched in his sleep. I had to supress the urge to reach over and stroke them like you would a cat’s ear. Something in my body language must have communicated my desire; because when I glanced back up I saw Ratchet’s lip plates twitch.

         “You would never get away with it if he were awake.”

         I ducked my head. “Why not?” _Then again, why was I even asking?_

“He is not particularly fond of his wings being touched.”

         I snorted, draining the rest of my energon and handing him back the cube. “I think you mean that he just doesn’t like being touched at all by anyone. He doesn’t exactly come across as the touchy-feely kind.”

          “And yet, he never used to be that way.”

         My optics shot up to Ratchet, but he was already moving away. It was then that another question I’d had stewing in the back of mind resurfaced, and I remembered my desire to speak to Optimus.

        “Would it be possible for me to speak to Optimus?” I asked, staring at Prowl.

         Ratchet looked at me oddly a moment, before he simply nodded. “Prime will be back within the earth hour. If you wish to speak with him, you may wish to clean the energon off your body.”

         I blinked. Then I glanced down, taking in the bright pink energon stains on my torso and arms. It was then I realized with horror that Prowl’s torso was also still energon covered, and that I probably didn’t want to hang around and wait for him to wake up. I got up, intending to walk over to the shower area, when it occurred to me that there _weren’t_ any. Not for the Autobots anyway.

         “Um, Ratchet?” He raised his head, and I reached for my locket before realising that it wasn’t there. “What do I use to clean myself off?”

         He blinked, before stepping over to one of the sinks. “Here.” He walked towards me with what looked like a damp cloth. “Use this for now.” Then he shook his head. “Usually we depend on the soldiers for washing us in our alternate modes, however, I can see why you may not be comfortable with that yet.”  

         Yeah, a major part of me doubted I would ever be comfortable with a bunch of soldier boys scrubbing me down. Alternate mode or not. I suddenly imagined myself in my car form being rubbed down by a bunch of soldiers in thongs, and nearly lost my lunch. I quickly shook my head, trying to dispel the image.

         Ratchet gave me another odd look, and I realized that he was still holding out the cloth. I took it, thanking him, and then walked back over to my berth and began wiping my armour. The energon wasn’t as easy as I’d thought it would to get off, and I especially struggled when it came to cleaning it off my neck cables. Getting in between the cables and wires was a foreign feeling to me. It felt strange to me, not bad, just strange.

         After a minute or two of watching me struggle, Ratchet came over to give me a hand. I tried not to think about how weird it was to be scrubbed down by another bot, but considering he was a medic it probably wasn’t all that unique a situation to him. I was honestly shocked by just how sensitive my armour really was. My neck cables especially tingled as he ran the cloth over them. Thankfully though, his touch was careful as he wiped beneath my chin.

         After he finished my neck, he gave the now pink-stained cloth back to me and I set to work scrubbing the remaining energon off my chest and arms, taking care to rinse the cloth multiple times in the sink whenever it became too grubby. When I was satisfied that I’d gotten most of the sticky-substance off, I walked to my room, transformed, and took a shower.

         It wasn’t perfect, I was still going to need a new coat of wax when this was all over, but at least I was finally clean.


	13. The Wash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a lot to write. Writer's block SUCKS
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I was standing by the side of the entrance of the main hanger, watching as soldiers and_ bots disembarked from the plane, when a massive semi truck covered in red flames drove down the ramp towards me and transformed. It had only been fifteen minutes after my shower that I’d been here, ultimately having decided to wait quietly in the hanger for Optimus to return in the case that I went back to the med bay and found that Prowl was awake.

         I waited, thinking he wouldn’t be ready to speak with me so soon after having arrived, but was surprised when he continued on his way toward me, inclining his head a little as he approached.

         “Greetings, youngling,” he said amiably. “I believe you wished to speak to me?”

         I nodded tentatively, opening my mouth, then paused. “I’m not _that_ young,” I said, frowning. When he regarded me with clear amusement, I shook my head. “I wanted to know if . . . if I could leave the base. Preferably soon.” I felt my spark sink as his amusement faded.

         “Absolutely not.”

         My head shot up as Ratchet approached from within the hanger. “I’m sorry,” I said, narrowing my optics at him, more in hurt that he of all bots wouldn’t vouch for me than in anger. “I didn’t realize I was a prisoner.” Optimus flinched, and Ratchet’s optics narrowed. “Look, I understand that you want me close, but I have animals at home, animals who will _starve_ if I’m not there to look after them. My sister hates my farm and could leave at any time. I _need_ to go home, even if just for a few days. Just to check up on things.”

         “It is not wise. Not only do you carry the AllSpark within you, but you are also a femme. The Decepticons would target you like no other.”

         “I’m not totally helpless,” I argued, remembering how I had fought Barricade. “Besides, the Decepticons wouldn’t even be aware that I’m there because as far as they’re concerned I was taken in by you bots.”

         “Yet you would undoubtedly still be in a great amount of danger. _That_ is why I will not allow it.” Optimus shook his head. “I cannot allow the risk.”

         “Then send someone with me,” I persisted. “Send some bot to watch over me so I wont _be_ in a great amount of danger. It won’t be for long. All I’m asking for is a few days, that’s all.”

         Optimus vented, and looked over at Ratchet. “How is she, medically?”

         “Stable, at the moment. Her body appears to have finished its transformations. All she needs to do is learn about her new body. With that said . . .” Ratchet was downright glaring now. “I do not like this. If the Decepticons happen to discover that she has returned, they will stop at nothing to retrieve her. I do not think that she should leave the island until she has mastered walking, running, and learned at least _some_ fighting techniques.”

         I bit my tongue to keep from blurting that with the way it was going so far, it could be _years_ before I’d mastered anything. Something told me that wouldn’t work in my favour.

         They exchanged a long look, and I stared at them both, already conjuring up my plans for escape in the case he still said no. Finally, Optimus sighed, and Ratchet shot him a dark, angry look. “Very well. You may return on account that you can walk and run, and have learned at least the basics in fighting. You will also be assigned a guardian to watch over you during your stay.” He nodded at me. “Once you are ready, you may leave. You will be given one earth week, and then will be expected to return.”

         “Thank you!” I smiled up at him. I would train as hard as I needed to, _anything_ , just so long as I got to see Astraea and Billy again. I felt like waltzing down to the beach right then and there to practise, but stopped myself. There was something I needed to do first.

         I walked into the hanger as best as I could and then down the halls to where the med bay was located. Prowl was already awake when I entered, wiping the energon on his chest off with a damp cloth near the sink as I had done, and I paused. One of his wings flicked and he looked at me, his expression unreadable. I ducked my head, fighting the urge to run out of the room, before approaching him.

         “Look, about what happened.” I raised my head. “I just wanted to say that I am sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. I promise you it won’t happen again.”

         He seemed to stare at me for a long moment, his expression never changing, as he held the cloth still in his hand. “Please do. That could have been a human ally you collided with. This time I will excuse you, however, take care that it does not happen again.”

         I nodded solemnly, all the while wishing I could just melt into a lifeless puddle on the floor. “It won’t. I promise.”

         Prowl nodded, before turning to rinse the cloth under the tap. I watched him for a few moments; taking in the pink stains across his chassis, and grimaced when I remember how difficult the energon had been for me to get off. An idea popped into my mind.

         “Let me do that,” I said, and then blushed when he just raised an optic-ridge. “I mean, let me give you a wash. Ratchet says the soldiers wash you bots all the time, so as a way of making up for spilling my energon all over you, let me give you a car wash.” When he didn’t say anything, I continued. “I’m really good at it, I promise. I used to wash Silver all the time.”

         His optics narrowed. “Silver?”

         “My jeep,” I corrected. “I’ve always washed him myself instead of taking him to a carwash. It never made sense considering where I lived out in the country. Once in a while, if I was in town already, I would stop at the carwash, but that wasn’t very often.” I realized that I was rambling, and quickly shut up.

         Prowl stared at me wordlessly a few more moments, his wings twitching ever so slightly, before he opened his mouth—

         “I agree with the femme, Prowl.”

         Both of us looked over to find Ratchet standing in the doorway, watching us with his arms crossed. The same glare was fixed on his faceplates, only this time it was concentrated on Prowl and not me. Prowl looked like he wanted to object, but the stormy expression on Ratchet’s face caused him to close his mouth. He looked between Ratchet and me. Finally, he nodded, his wings dropping just the tiniest bit in defeat.

         My optics brightening, I resisted the urge to leap and whoop—not that I could have done the former anyway—, and instead followed him eagerly as he crossed the room. I risked a glance up at Ratchet as I went by, but he was glaring at the back of the room. I passed by without a word.

         I followed Prowl all the way to the main hanger and then outside, where he led me past a few other bots that were already getting washed by a group of soldiers, to a more secluded corner. He seemed to pause, before transforming down into a Ford Mustang police cruiser, and backing smoothly in a half loop into the space. Likewise, I transformed down into my human self, and then went in search of some cleaning supplies.

         I must have wandered around for a solid five minutes, feeling the hot stares of the other soldiers boring into me—none of whom offered any assistance—before a handsome man clad in army clothes walked over from where he, along with a couple of others, were cleaning a black GMC Topkick. “Looks to me like you’re looking for something,” he said. “Want some help?”

         “Actually,” I said, smiling ruefully at him, “Yes. Do you know where I could find some Autobot washing supplies?”

         He nodded, and I followed him over to a nearby storage shed. “So, you must be the girl who turned into a bot,” he said, as he grabbed a bucket. “I’m sorry that none of the other soldiers offered to help. You can be assured that I’ll be having a talk with them later.” Then he stuck out his hand. “Major William Lennox, but Will is fine, so long as you aren’t secretly a soldier.”

         “I’m Jane,” I said, relaxing as I reached to shake his hand.

         “So who’s the lucky bot?” he said, handing me the bucket that now had rags and a sponge in it.

         “Prowl,” I replied.

       He eyebrows lifted. “No kidding?”

         “No.”

         There was a snort behind me, and I spun to find a black soldier approaching. I would have tensed, but his expression looked easy going. “You mean Prowl as in _the_ Prowl bot?”

         I nodded slowly. “Yes.”

         “Damn,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “How’d you get _him_ of all bots to agree to a wash?”

         “I, um, kind of spilt two cubes of energon all over him,” I admitted. Both men were looking at me with interest, so I briefly told them what had happened, starting with how I had stupidly rammed into him when I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. By the time I had finished recounting my story, Will was smirking while Epps—as he had introduced himself as—was outright laughing.

         “Don’t worry about it too much, Jane,” Will said. “You’re not the first person to set Prowl off. If Ratchet doesn’t blame you for what happened, then I’m sure Prowl doesn’t either.”

         I nodded, feeling enormously consoled, less by his answer and more by their very presence. Despite their clear superiority over me, they were—or at least, used to be—my kin.

         “Anyways,” Will said, “good luck. I have a job to get back to.”

         “Thanks,” I said, waving a little as both men walked off. With my bucket in my hand, I too walked down the line of Autobots until I reached the spot where Prowl was still parked. My eyes raked over his form, taking in the bright splash of pink on his white front hood, and I grimaced at the dried sight of it on what was otherwise a beautiful car. And it _was_ beautiful. Sure, it was no Ferrari or Porsche, but Mustangs were still hot.

         God, had I just called Prowl’s alternate mode _hot_?

         Shaking my head, I stared at the car for a few more moments, before going to work. I walked over to where the hose hung in a loop against the wall, turned on the faucet, and then waited until the water spouting out of it was neither too hot, nor too cold—but comfortably warm. I focused most of my attention first on his hood, spraying the water all over the energon in an effort to wash some of it away. While it didn’t come off all that much, it did make it so it was easier to scrub off.

         Prowl was excellent. I’m not sure how exactly I thought he would act, but aside from the occasional sound coming from his engine, he was sat there completely still and silent.

         After I had finished scrubbing the energon from his hood, I turned my attention to the rest of him, taking care to use the lightest of touches possible when it came to his washing his doorwings, relying more heavily on the spray of water. Overall, the car was already clean; so aside from scrubbing off the few more splatters of energon I came across here and there, it didn’t take me long to wash him.

         “I’m done,” I announced. This was after I’d taken one last look all over to make sure that I hadn’t missed anything. Prowl flicked his headlights at me, before pulling smoothly out of the way.

         “ _Finally_!” Suddenly a green Chevy Beat drove past Prowl—slowing only just as he passed him—and parked in the now vacant spot. I stared at it, unaware that this bot, along with its reddish twin also pulling in, had been waiting for a wash.

         “We been waitin’ since you got here!”

         What.

         “Yeah!” The red one piped up. “We needs a good washin’!”

         I stared at them blankly. There was no reason to _not_ to wash them, I thought to myself. I bent to pick up the sponge that I had dropped and put in back into the bucket, when the green vehicle blew its horn at me, startling me into dropping it again.

         “Comes _on_!” he said, honking again.

         My cheeks reddened as I felt the stares of the nearby soldiers and bots. Lifting my head, I spotted Prowl parked a few feet away, neither moving nor transforming. I swallowed.

         “No,” I said quietly.

           There was silence a moment, before the green one transformed. He’s smaller than the other bots I’ve seen, maybe eleven feet. “What did you say?”

         “No,” I said a little more firmly. “You’re both being an ass. Since you seem to be in such a hurry, Google ‘car wash’ and do it yourselves!”

         I was tempted to walk off, but found myself rooted to the spot. Part of me argued that I should just do what they wanted and be done with it all, but I stopped myself. I refused to allow myself to become a doormat.

         “You know what?” he said. “We ain’t gonna take this, is we, Mudflap?”

         “No, Skids, we _ain’t_ ,” Mudflap confirmed, transforming, and folding his arms.

         “You know,” I said, “even a _little_ niceness can get you a long way.”

         “Yo!” Skids shoved Mudflap, causing him to stagger sideways a couple of steps. “You hear dat? She just said dat we ain’t _nice_!”

         “We nice! We always nice!”

         Skids reached for me. “You don’t get to talk to _us_ like dat—”

         Without thinking, I threw my wet sponge at Skids. It landed on his face and stuck for a second, before falling to the ground with a wet splat. He looked startled a moment, before his brother suddenly pointed at him and started laughing.

         “She got you good!”

         “Shut it!”

         As they started bickering with each other, I turned my attention to ravelling up the hose and hanging it over the hook on the wall. After I was done, I walked back over to retrieve the bucket I’d left, picking it up, looking over to glance at the fighting bots, only to realize that they were now tussling on the ground and rolling toward me.

        I blinked, and then I yelped, dropping the bucket. I turned to run, but before I could even take a step, Prowl transformed and plucked me from the ground, pulling me safely out of the way just moments before I would have been crushed—at the same time, the black bot with arm cannons stalked over to the oblivious twins and grabbed them, separating them, before bashing their heads together.

         “Watch what you’re doing,” he said gruffly.

         I sat pie-eyed, with the lurching knowledge that if Prowl hadn’t grabbed me when he did I would be laying there, flat as a pancake, now. Any other day and I probably would have burst out laughing at the entire thing. But as it was I just gaped, an unfamiliar buzzing in my chest urging me to transform and flee from the danger. Except, I wasn’t in any danger. Not anymore anyway. I glanced up at who was looking down at me with an expression of—was that _relief_ in his optics? I shook my head. I must have been imagining things.

         Prowl nodded at me, his expression once more becoming unreadable, before narrowing his optics at the twins. “You two. My office. Now.”

         Bending over, he placed his hand near the ground, allowing me to shakily step off, before straightening and walking into the hanger, with the twins trailing a little ways behind. I watched him go, strangely missing the warmth his palm had provided. By the time the twins had  disappeared fully into the hanger, I had already turned away and started walking in the opposite direction.


	14. Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up and running
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own it*

_I woke at first light, moving with precision as I drank my energon. I could walk without_ swaying now. Every step that had been slow and unsteady only a week prior I had mastered to the point where I could pace the halls with a cube in hand, and not have to play my hopscotch game over the humans. My body moved over or around them on instinct, seeming almost to bypass my processer. Though my size and weight still confounded me at times, I’d come to accept that it was who I was now. I didn’t feel myself in contradiction to my Cybertronian self the way I had previously. It wasn’t me against it. We two were one.

         It was early but hot already as I walked the path that led down to the beach. I felt tired but strong, braced for the day. I spent the morning walking along the shore in the sand, pausing every now and then to stare at the ocean. By midmorning I was running across the shoreline, pushing myself to move faster and faster, until it felt as though I were gliding.

         The blue sky was everywhere above me, the sun bright and unrelenting, warm against my plating. I hummed tunes as I ran, singing _Baby, let’s drive into the night_. . . and _There is a house built out of stone_. . . in a low voice, then letting the radio music player in my head take over so I simply sang lines of songs I longed to hear. “Let the children lose it, let the children use it, let all the children boogie.”

         I stopped running and looked up at the sky. A couple of seagulls circled above me, hardly seeming to flap their wings. Then I turned and ran on, my mind emptying into nothing but the effort to push my body as fast as I could go. I counted my steps, working my way to fifty and starting over again at one. Each time I’d completed a set it felt as though I’d achieved a small thing.

         By the time I was satisfied with my improvement, it was dark and the full moon was rising. I couldn’t muster to energy to walk back to the main hanger—a task that required taking more than one step, which now seemed impossible to me. I was too tired to even move. I simply laid—half fell—down where I was standing and spread out on the sand. I stared up at the moon, before falling into recharge.

         I woke two hours later with the vague sensation that I was being carried. The hands were around my upper back and behind my knees. I could hear the soft hum coming from the chest plates next to me. “Hmm,” I moaned, shifting slightly before I onlined my optics and a series of facts came to me in slow motion.

         There was the fact of the moon and the fact that I was being carried across the beach by a bot.

         There was the fact that the chest my head was against was white and the fact that the red Autobot insignia was staring down at me on it.

         And then there was the final fact of all, a fact that caused my optics to widen: the fact that not only was I being carried by a bot whose footsteps were soft in the sand, but that I was being carried by Prowl.

         Immediately, I was struck by both shock and guilt. For all I knew, someone had reported me missing and he’d been forced to come looking for me. I felt bad for him having to carry me, yet I didn’t dare move, for fear that it would only make things awkward between us. I just stared at him. Despite it being extremely dark outside, I found that I could make out his features quite well, and I was surprised to find that, aside from the fine-tuned neutral expression he wore, he looked remarkably young. With the strictness with which he carried himself, I’d have pinned him for being much older, but . . .

         “You look really young,” I said, without thinking. He startled slightly, as though he’d thought I was asleep, before his optics locked on mine. I blinked at him. Then I felt myself heat, grimacing when I realized what it was I’d just blurted out. I could have kicked myself when my stupid cooling fans switched on; a downside to being a giant alien robot, included having those fans turning on whenever I became nervous or embarrassed.

         He didn’t say anything, just narrowed his eyes, and continued to walk. Another thing that surprised me was how quiet he treaded despite his size and the additional weight he was carrying.

         I checked to make sure that he was _actually_ walking, before turning back to look at him. “You don’t talk much, do you?” I asked, one hand reaching for my locket that I suddenly remembered wasn’t there.

         His optics snapped back to mine, then he tilted his head slightly. “You reach for your neck quite often.” He said this not as a question but matter-of-factly, like it was something he’d observed me doing more than once, and I found myself touching my neck.

         “It’s an old habit,” I said, smiling weakly. “Something I’ve done ever since I was twelve.”

         “For what purpose?” he asked, and somehow I managed to shrug.

         “Just to reassure myself that it’s still there I guess. When I was younger it used to be something I could grab onto whenever I felt nervous or unsure of myself, and now that I’ve grown—” I took my hand away, placing it in my lap. “Well, I guess you could say the action stuck with me.”

         He didn’t say anything, only looked ahead as he walked. I tilted my head back to gaze up past his face at the star-filled sky. It was a gorgeous night, only with no trees or mountains to cloud my view it seemed as though the sky stretched on forever. In that moment I felt minuscule in the face of the universe. I was bigger now, yet still so tiny. Suddenly a question I had popped into mind.

         “How did you know I was out here?” I asked.

         “I didn’t. I just happened to walking along the beach when I found you.”

         “What were you doing out here so late?” I meant it to be a simple question, but it came out sounding accusatory.

         “I could ask you the same thing,” Prowl said. He narrowed his optics at me, and I looked away.

         “I was . . . practising my run when I lost track of time.” I stared at my hands sat in my lap. “It was foolish, I know. But . . .” Then I looked up at the stars. “Something about being out here reminds me of home. I feel . . . freer somehow.”

         Prowl studied me with an unreadable expression. “Our intent isn’t to make you feel like you like are a prisoner. It is simply for your protection that you are being kept on the island.”

         I snorted, without meaning to. “My protection? Or the AllSpark’s?”

         He stared at me a moment longer, before turning to face straight ahead. “Both of yours,” he said, his voice so serious that I almost felt guilty.

         I decided to change the subject. “Well, what about you?” I said.

         “What about me?” he said, still looking ahead.

         “What were you doing at the beach?”

         He was silent for a long moment, and I began to wonder what it was with Prowl and his periods of extended silence. Before I could ask, however, I felt him shift ever so slightly. “I often find myself out here when I am unable to recharge.” He stopped walking to gaze at the sky, and found myself struck by how much his glowing optics resembled the pinpricks of stars above him.

         “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I whispered, not sure why I’d decided to lower my voice all of sudden. As I spoke these words, it occurred to me that I’d not watched the sun rise since I’d set foot on the island. How could that be? After all the routine mornings I’d done, it seemed impossible that it was true, but it was. There was no Astraea or Billy or waking up early to see the rising of the sun. I almost burst into tears with the realization, but I bit my lip instead.

         Immediately Prowl tightened his grip on me; and I liked to fancy it was because he had sensed my sudden unhappiness, though I doubted that was so, considering he hadn’t even turned to look at me.

         “You know, it’s strange,” I said, and Prowl turned to look at me. I checked my internal chronometer. It was 12:07. “I’m usually sound asleep by now. But I’m wide awake tonight.”

         He didn’t respond, just stared at me, as though I were an enigma he was trying to figure out, while I looked at him. It was then I realized just how grateful I was for this kind of conversation that I hadn’t had since arriving on the island. I had liked Lennox and Epps well enough, but it was Prowl I felt oddly closest to, if only because he felt familiar. As we stared at each other, I realized that he reminded me of home; being with Prowl we could not exchange a single word to each other and it wouldn’t be awkward. It made me think of how I would lay on Astraea’s back in the middle of the woods and just listen to the soft sounds around me, without feeling the need to add my own input.

         “We should make a wish,” I said to Prowl, breaking the silence between us.

         “A wish?” he said, sounding confused. His optics dimmed slightly, before lighting back up. “Do you not have to wait for there to be a shooting star?”

         “Traditionally, yes. But we can make up our own rules,” I said. “Like, I want to be able to do a roundhouse kick without falling flat onto my face. Just don’t say your wish out loud, or it won’t come true.”

         He tilted his head slightly. “I fail to see the logic in expecting something to come true simply because you wished for it.”

         “We humans are a hopeful species,” I said with a smile. Then I paused, recalling that I was no longer a human. _Nothing is ever truly gone_ , a voice whispered. I shook my head, tilting back instead to gaze up at the stars. “It’s a perfect night to make a wish.”

         He stared at me for a few more moments, before manoeuvring to gaze up at the expanse above our heads. We were silent together for several moments. I let my head fall against him with a dull clang, and he made to start walking again, but I held a hand against his chest and he stopped.

         “Can we stay like this for just a little longer?” I asked him, and after a moment of staring at me in the dark, he nodded.

         I turned my gaze back to the sky. We stood like that together for what felt like an eternity.

         I made my wish.


	15. Home Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R + R please!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_The next morning I sat with my legs hanging over a metal berth in med bay. This was_ ten minutes after Ratchet himself had appeared outside the door to my quarters and informed me that I was to stop by the med bay for some final tests before I boarded the plane that would fly me home. After last night’s late escapades I’d have honestly preferred to just stay sleeping for the entirety of the morning—and quite possibly the rest of the day—but hearing the news that today was the day I was finally going to get to go home had revived me somewhat, and I’d rushed over to the med bay just as soon as I had gulped down a cube of energon.

         I was eager to get going, but as it was I was stuck twiddling my thumbs on the berth while Ratchet ran test after test, obviously paranoid about letting re-enter the world without him. For the love of me I didn’t understand why he didn’t just come with me if he was that afraid of something happening to me, but apparently letting both the AllSpark as well as the only Cybertronian medic currently on earth leave the safety of the base at the same time was a risk they weren’t willing to take. I didn’t blame them. I did, however, wonder who my guardian was going to be then, if not Ratchet. He was the only bot I felt comfortable around, besides Prowl and Optimus. The latter of which I was still getting used to.

         I just prayed to God that it wasn’t the Chevy twins.

         I’d run into the twins a couple of days after the washing incident—literally, as I had avoided them like the plague only to accidently bump into them on my way around a corner—and surprisingly they both apologized to me. They seemed sincere about it too. I wasn’t the type to hold grudges, so I forgave them both readily, just happy that the whole thing was over and done with. Part of me wondered if it was only because it was because I was femme, or if it was because they were actually sorry that they’d nearly rolled over me while I was in human form. Either way we got along a lot better now, and the twins had taken to following me around base for ‘protection’.

         Yeah.

         Anyway, even though the twins weren’t bad bots, I was weary about bringing a pair of giant robots home who would start fighting at the drop of a hat.

          I’d met a couple of the other bots. Ironhide, for instance, I’d learned was the name of Mr. Arm-Cannons I’d seen talking with Lennox so often. He’d been in charge of training me the basics of fighting every day for the past week, the only exception being yesterday when he’d been occupied with running drills with the soldiers. While I got the impression that he was still suspicious of me, I had to admit that he was an exceptionally good trainer. Rough. Very rough. But, compared to how he was when he mock-battled the other bots, he was considerably gentler with me.

         And, thank God for _that_.

         I’d taken karate in my early teens, so learning the basics was more of review than an actual lesson for me. The only thing I found challenging was getting my body to move the way I wanted to when it came to doing certain kicks and spins. Still, I think I surprised him with just how much I actually knew in terms of the stances and blocks.

         I ran over some of the stances in head as I waited for Ratchet to finish his latest scan, trying my hardest not continually glance at my internal chronometer. Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was in reality only twenty minutes, he folded the overhead deep-scanner back against the wall. I sat up almost immediately. “Can I go?”

         “My scans indicate that your body is functioning within acceptable parameters at this time.” He shot me a dry look. “And as for your question: yes, you can—”

         I jumped to my feet in excitement.

         “—However, I still expect you to notify me if anything changes in terms of your health. You have made a lot of progress in learning about your body so far—in your walk especially I have noticed a great deal of improvement—but there is still much that you are unfamiliar with—”

         I nodded, shifting from one foot to the other. “But I can go, right?”

         Ratchet vented noisily. “Yes, you can go.”

         “Yes!” I squealed, clapping my hands together. “Now to found who my guardian is going to be, and then I can I leave!”

         “Have you not heard?”

         I tilted my head sideways at him. “Heard what?”

         “Optimus was initially going to assign himself, but Prowl offered to take you on as his own charge. He insisted on being the one to watch over you.”

         “But isn’t Prowl second in command? Shouldn’t he, I don’t know, stay here?”

         “Perhaps. But he is more concerned about you.”

         Somehow I doubted that it was me he was really concerned about. The fact that Big Bot himself had intended to act as my guardian just instilled the thought that it was the AllSpark they were worried about, not me.

         “I think you mean the AllSpark,” I said, staring at the floor.

         “I do not believe Prowl would have taken guardianship away from Optimus if his only concern was for that of the AllSpark. He is an overachiever who prefers his own company over that of others.” There was a snort. “Almost nothing can pry that bot away from his work.”

         Now _that_ I could believe, I hardly ever saw that bot without a datapad of some sort in his hand. And that was only when I saw him, half the time he was cooped up in his office working through the seemingly never-ending stack of datapads on his desk. If nothing else, he could certainly _use_ the break.

         “I think the term you’re looking for is workaholic,” I said, raising a brow. Then I smiled. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you next week.”

         Ratchet nodded. I started to move away, but I changed my mind and came back to quickly circle my arms around his waist. Just as quickly I pulled away, afraid I was overstepping my bounds or that Cybertronians didn’t hug, or something stupid like that. On my way out of the room, I dared a glance at him; he was standing there with an oddly blank look in his optics, his lips slightly parted like he’d been about to say something. I smiled, before rushing out of the room.

         I was going to miss him, I realized. Something about him reminded me of some person I used to know.

         I speed-walked down the halls to the main hanger, stepping over humans as I went. Outside the main entrance I could already spot Optimus and Prowl speaking in front of a plane that was no doubt waiting to take off.

         _My plane,_ I thought giddily. I was going home. I could hardly wait to see Astraea and Billy again.

         I walked over to them, trying my hardest to repress some of my excitement in order to remain respectful. They stopped talking when I approached, each giving me a nod to show I was welcome. Optimus smiled at me, his lips showing faint lines of amusement. Clearly I was not doing a good job of reining in my enthusiasm.

         “Hi,” I said, ducking my head a little in greeting.

          “Greetings, youngling.”

           I opened my mouth at his term, but then paused. Compared to his ancient ass I guess I was pretty young. I looked at Prowl instead. Somehow he appeared different in the daytime than at night. “So,” I said, “you’re going to be my guardian.” When he nodded, gazing at me through wordless optics, I smiled. “I’m glad,” I said.

         I think this took both Optimus and Prowl back, though with Prowl it was hard to tell. Optimus blinked at me, opening his mouth, before seeming to think better of it and just shaking his head. I didn’t care. I was in such a good mood; it’d likely take our entire plane crashing to bring me down. Literally and metaphorically.

         “You heard from Ratchet, I presume?” When I nodded, bouncing from one foot to the other, he smiled. “Very well. If you have no objections then I will consider the matter to be settled. You are free to go.”

         I resisted the urge to throw my arms around him, but couldn’t resist the urge to grin like a Cheshire cat. I tried to get a hold of myself. “Thank you.” I nodded.

         “May you find whatever it is you are looking for, young one,” he said, placing a hand on Prowl’s shoulder as he walked away.

         For a moment we just stood there, silently staring at each other, before both of us turned on some unspoken cue and started walking towards the plane. I had to fight the urge run over, while Prowl looked down at the datapad he was holding, obviously intending to work during the flight. I frowned. _Not on my watch_ , I thought to myself.

         “Hey,” I said, and he lifted his head to look at me. “You should rest.” Glancing at him, I noticed then that his wings were lower than normal. His optics were also a tad duller than they had been last time I saw him. Or maybe they’d been that way last night and I just hadn’t noticed?

         “I have work to do,” he said indifferently, turning his attention back to his datapad. I watched as he rubbed his chin before pressing a few characters, before I stopped walking, observing the way his wings twitched as he did too. He didn’t stop typing, however, and I crossed my arms, standing there silently, until he looked at me. He raised an optic-ridge. “Is there a problem?”

         “Yes,” I said, “yes, there is.” I gestured to the datapad he was holding. “ _That_ is my problem. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t try to get any work done while we’re away, but can you please just put the datapad away while we’re in the plane? Your system needs rest.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted to snort and grimace at the same time. What did I think I was—a medic? Obviously, I had been spending far too much time around Ratchet.

         But to my surprise, Prowl nodded, and put his datapad away in subspace—yeah, I didn’t think I would ever get used to _that_ either: being able to store things in a cavity within ourselves. I’d expected to get reprimanded for speaking out of place, but when he only continued to walk towards the ramp of the plane, I quickly caught up to him and—reaching into my own subspace—handed him one of the cubes of energon I had stored for the trip.

         “Here,” I said, “I think you need this.” And, I better shut up while I was ahead.

         Prowl accepted it with a wordless nod, sipping on it as we walked up into the bowel of the plane. It was enough to convince me that he really was tired, since he wasn’t usually so complacent. Or maybe he just didn’t see the logic in arguing about something that actually made sense.

         The plane was huge. The fact that Prowl and I could walk without stooping like a pair of trolls inside of its belly spoke volumes about its size. I noticed that inside there were benches with straps for the soldiers, but nowhere for the bots to sit, and I began to wonder just what we supposed to do when Prowl put his now empty cube away in subspace and then transformed smoothly down into the Mustang cruiser.

         Oh.

         Somehow the thought of remaining cooped up in vehicle mode for the duration of the flight wasn’t that appealing to me. I transformed down into my human form instead, before awkwardly approaching Prowl’s passenger side door.

         “Do you mind if I ride with you?” I asked, dreading the moment he said no. But to my relief and joy the door popped open without a word, and I climbed in, hopping onto the seat carefully, setting my feet on the mat.

         It was strange sitting inside of a living car, but the interior was normal enough with black leather seats that were soft to the touch. I tried not to think about how I when I touched the seats I was touching Prowl, and instead leaned my head back against the warm headrest. The seat beneath me shifted backwards ever so slightly, and I soon found myself sagging against it even more, finding myself surprisingly comfortable. “Thanks, Prowl.”

         There was no response, except the door shut, and then the seat belt slid down across me.

         As much as I willed myself to stay awake, I found myself relaxing to the gentle hum of Prowl’s engine. Or was it his spark? It didn’t matter. I was comfortable either way. Before I knew it, I was asleep.


	16. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read and kept up with the story thus far!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_When we pulled into my gravel laneway a few hours later, it was all I could do not to_ jump out of the car then and there and run with my arms wide open to the pasture. I was practically vibrating with excitement to the extent that Prowl actually tightened the seatbelt slightly, causing me to pause when I remembered where I was and who I was with. Still, there was no smothering my eagerness to see my animals again, and as soon as the car came to standstill beside Silver, opening his door, I dashed out to the pasture.

         My feet thudded quickly across the green grass, climbed the fence; and then I was running as fast as I could go into the pasture, crying, “Astraea, Astraea, Astraea,” as I went. The neigh that rang out on the warm air was a sound the mare had never made before, and I nearly choked when her black body appeared galloping wildly from where the pasture banked down on the other end, her equally as black mane and tail streaming.

         Both of us were moving so fast that we missed each other entirely, before we each swung back around to collide with one another. “Oh, Astraea, Astraea!” I cried, wrapping my arms around her neck and burying my head in her mane.

         She heaved a great sigh and half closed her eyes, completely relaxed, while my hands went all over her head and neck, smoothing the silken softness of her pitch-black hide, patting the sensitive curves of her face, straightening her forelock. I was so happy to see her that I was incapable of forming any outside thought except that I was _here_ , she was _here_. Nothing else mattered.

         I was so captivated by Astraea that I hardly noticed the little mouth pulling at my pant leg. Wiping away a few stray tears with my sleeve, I kneeled down to hug tightly Billy who was fighting kindly for my attention. He still had a few strands of clover sticking out of the side of his mouth, and I laughed when it brushed against my cheek as I pulled away.

         Suddenly from a ways behind me, I heard my sister’s teasing voice. “To think that my sister loves her goat more than me—”

         I tackled her before she was able to finish her sentence, laughing like an idiot all the while, we fell onto the grass wrapped up in a hug, before we rolled over and it quickly morphed into an all out sisterly-brawl.

         When we finally came to a stop by the fence, tangled up in each other, both of us just lay there for a minute. Astraea had followed me over, and bent her head to nose at my face, while Billy went over and chewed at Abby’s clothes, if her shriek of displeasure was anything to go by. I grinned.

         When another moment of silence ended, Abby said, “And to think that I’ve fed and looked after this bugger for over a week.”

         “It’s how he shows his love,” I said.

         “If that’s the case, I don’t want any part of it,” she said, getting to her feet and dusting her pants off. “God, why couldn’t you have been a normal person and kept a fat cat as a pet?”

         “Where would be the fun in that?” I said joyfully. Then I got up too, keeping one hand on Astraea as I stood. I was pleasantly surprised; the last time Abby and I had rolled around in the dirt like that had been before she’d moved away to work at her tattoo shop. Before our grandparents had died.

         “Who the hell is _he_?” Abby suddenly asked, looking over to where Prowl was still parked, and I turned surprised to find an actual person exiting out of Prowl. The person turned out to be a man, blue-eyed and gorgeous, his raven hair shaved up the sides beneath his hat. He wore a typical dark police officer’s uniform equipped with a heavy-duty vest that said POLICE on the front of it, as well as a belt with multiple pockets. I knew without a doubt that this man was Prowl. Something just gave me that impression.

         In one of the data-packets Ratchet had given me I’d learned a bit about holo-forms, something that all the Autobots were equipped with as a way of blending in with the rest of society, so there weren’t a bunch of driverless cars roaming around. But up until now, I’d never actually seen one.

         Was this Prowl’s holographic form, I wondered?

         “Does he have anything to do with your disappearance for over a week?” Abby asked me seriously.

         “Would you believe me if I told you no?” I said lightly, trying to play it off. But her eyes darkened and turned to me, silently demanding. I sighed. “It’s complicated. He’s . . . been assigned to protect me. He’ll be staying around the farm until I have to leave again next week.”

         “Janie . . .” Abby’s gaze softened somewhat. “I still have no idea what to believe, but if something’s going on that I should know about—” Then she paused, her eyes narrowing once more. “Wait—what do you mean you’re leaving next week?”

         Shit.

         “I, um—” I had no idea what I could say that would somehow explain why I had to leave without giving away the real reason I had to leave. Then my mind went to the image of Barricade sitting in his car watching us in the parking lot, and gave me an idea. “I’m being stalked,” I blurted. It wasn’t _that_ far from the truth. “Remember all those times I rambled on about a police cruiser and that prissy-looking cop? Well, turns out he tried to kidnap me the other day. Now he’s stalking me. And Officer, um, Prowl over there—” I came up short on any sort of cover name for him. “—is staying at the house for my protection. Next week I have to leave so that Officer Poker-Ass doesn’t realize I’m back in town.”

         When I was finished talking, Abby said, “I still don’t think you’re telling me the entire truth, but on the other hand if you really _are_ being stalked by that guy then I guess it’s good that at least the police are involved.” She gave me a hard look, before shaking her head. “I take it you didn’t take my advice to mimic your fall and knock some sense into yourself.”

         I laughed, stroking Astraea on her satiny neck, leading her without rein closer to the fence; once there I hefted myself over the top railing with ease, before turning back to catch Abby climbing over it more carefully. Together we walked side by side up to the officer, who was watching us silently from his position near the hood of the car with one hand on his belt.

         “Officer this is my sister Abby,” I said, and he nodded at her without smiling. Abby on the other hand looked at him with one of her suggestive smirks and opened her mouth—

         I kicked her hard—but not too hard, as my intent wasn’t to fatally injure her— in the shin. Immediately she yelped and shot me a dark look, before returning the kick. I’m sure, had I been my former fleshy self and not made of metal that I would have clutched my leg and jumped around in pain, but as it was I barely felt her kick. It was like breath on a mirror. Still, I probably should have pretended that it hurt or something because her vengeful look soon changed to confusion when I didn’t react. I clapped my palms together.

         “Do you want to head on inside?” I asked, turning to her with a smile. “I need to have a word with Officer, um, Prowl here, but we’ll be right in as soon as we’re done.”

         Abby gave me a suspicious look, but otherwise complied without a word. And no sooner had the front door slammed shut, then I had turned to the man beside me with my arms crossed.

         “What the heck!” I hissed at him. “You never thought to give me a heads up that you were going to be activating your holo-form while we were here?”

         He raised an eyebrow. “Considering the nature of our location I assumed that it would have been obvious.”

         “Obvious for you maybe! I had _no_ idea what to tell my sister about the random police officer who appeared out of apparently _nowhere_ —”

         “I activated my holo-form before we pulled into your laneway, you were simply too caught up in your own elation at the time to notice.”

         I paused. Had he activated his holo-form while we were driving? I didn’t recall, but then I was pretty out of mind with thoughts bent on returning home. I reached for my necklace as I thought about it, rolling the locket between my fingers.

         “I’m sorry,” I said, deflating. “I’m just not the best at improvising. It stresses me out.” I shook my head. “But I shouldn’t blame you for my failure to observe what was around me.”

         The hard look in his eyes faded then, and he dipped his head. “My apologies for not making the activation of my holographic form more apparent when you were so obviously distracted.”

         I mimicked his head bow awkwardly. Then I paused. “May I . . . touch it?” When he tilted his head slightly in confusion, I blushed. “I mean—may I touch your holo-form? If that’s okay?”

         He stared at me a long moment, the cruiser eerily silent behind him, and then he nodded. I reached forward with one hand slowly in case he decided to change his mind, fully aware of the fact that Prowl hated physical contact, and laid it against his chest. I blinked. Part of me had expected my hand to waft right through him like he was a ghost or something, so I was surprised when I met something solid instead; his police vest _felt_ like a police vest: hard and coarse and flexible. It was like he was actually a human. The only things I noticed that were off about him was the fact that his holo-form didn’t breathe—and his eyes, which reminded me of Barricade’s in the way that the irises almost seemed to glow slightly. They were the same icy blue that his real optics were, I realized: cold and sharp.

           Curious, I touched his face.

         It too, felt like a face. His skin was malleable and soft and warm to touch. As I continued to stroke his cheek lightly, I couldn’t get over how _real_ he felt beneath my fingers. My eyes moved to look at his expression, and I froze. His eyes were widened slightly, his lips parted, and it was then it hit me like a brick wall just what it was I was doing, whereupon I immediately dropped me hand.

          “Sorry,” I said in a quiet voice. Dear God, was I embarrassed. If I could, I would have happily sunk into a man-eating hole right then and there. But as it was, I just averted my gaze in favour of watching at Astraea graze by the fence.

         Suddenly the front door flew open, and I heard Abby yell with her head stuck out, “Are you guys planning on coming in anytime soon or not?”

         “Jeez, Abbs, don’t get your knickers in a knot,” I yelled back, and she stuck her tongue out at me before vanishing back inside. When I dared to glance at Prowl out of the corner of my eye his former expression had been replaced by his usual mask of neutrality, making him totally unreadable. I turned to face him fully then, before glancing past his holo-form to the police car sitting idly.

         I smirked. “So, is holo-form Prowl going to come inside? Or is he going to pretend to patrol the property?”

         The car remained silent, while holo-form Prowl ducked his head. “ _I_ am leaving that decision up to you.”

         My smirk faded, and I frowned. “Will you be able to maintain the holo-form and keep an optic out for any Decepticons at the same time? I don’t want to overtax your systems.”

         “It is of no issue to me. I am better at multi-tasking than most.”

         “I wouldn’t mind you coming inside then,” I said, after thinking about it. “I can pretend to give you a room and then you can deactivate it at night.”

         He seemed to think it over, and then nodded. Together we walked to the house with Prowl slightly behind me. Once inside, all three of us sat around kitchen table, and Abby had a chance to tell about another one of Billy’s escapades, about the mess he made in the storage shed when she forgot to lock it shut, about him ruining a pair of her favourite jeans.

         I nearly gave myself a hernia; I was laughing so hard.

         When we went up to bed an hour later, I gave Prowl the spare bedroom next to mine, while Abby disappeared into her old bedroom across the hall. As I settled into bed that night, I opened my _Jane Eyre_ novel up and began to read from where I’d last left off.

         I fell asleep with the book still spread across my chest.


	17. Midnight Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting to the Decepticons, I swear! I've just had a lot of introductions and character-building to get out of the way first.
> 
> Anyways, R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_When I opened my eyes the alarm clock on the table beside my bed pointed to twenty_ minutes to five. I slipped out of bed and went to the window, pulling down the skirt of my nightgown. Prowl was still parked in the spot next to Silver and in front of the storage shed right underneath, and I could see holo-form Prowl standing near the pasture fence. He had on the same police outfit from yesterday, and was watching Astraea who had walked up to the fence with her ears pricked.

           It was kind of cute. Neither obviously knew what to make of each other, but I felt immensely proud of the fact that despite this Astraea wasn’t balking at the sight of something I was more than certain she sensed was off. Then I wondered if Prowl’s holoform even had a smell or not. Did he smell like a human? And what about me—what did I smell like to Astraea now that I was no longer human? She hadn’t reacted any different to me, but was that simply because she recognized me or—

           Prowl looked up, his eyes meeting mine instantly. They didn’t wander around or anything, just locked onto me as though he had been able to sense I was watching him. For a moment, neither of us moved. We just stared at each other. Then he spun towards me, eyes narrowing, before he opened the driver side door and climbed in, most likely vanishing; I couldn’t tell behind the tinted glass windows.

           I faded back into my room and hastily began to dress. I passed Abby’s room as quietly as I could, knowing that she would remain asleep until nine when she would have to rise to go to work.

           On my way downstairs I stopped before the painting of the bobcat I’d done for my grandfather back when I was seventeen. It was the head of a spotted bobcat with a tawny chest and face and a slightly whiter muzzle. He was fierce and regal looking, with his eye caught on something just out of view. The background was a pale, foggy blue, giving the impression that this was a wintry scene. There was such a sharpness in his eyes and turned head and the forward tilt of his body that I felt as if it dragged me in too. In another second, the bobcat would pounce out of the picture. At one point in time I had loved this painting. Now the blue just looked like greyness to me, full of fear and loneliness. And the cat reminded me of myself: forever reaching for something it would never obtain.

         I continued on the rest of the way downstairs.

           Once outside I tore across the grass to where Astraea was waiting for me with her head hanging over the fence. In greeting to her I cupped her quivering nostrils between my hands and blew gently, and stood there quietly with her for a minute, drinking in her warm scent and the way her inky black coat blended into the dark all around.

         Finally I moved away toward the storage shed; unsurprisingly, Billy The Goat was already standing there on his hind legs, mouthing the lock. I shook my head at his antics, before pushing him aside and opening the door with a key I always kept hidden beneath the tin roof. I then collected their food buckets, filling them, hooking the bin full of grooming tools on my arm, turning—

         A pair of hands steadied me as I nearly collided with the body standing there. I was surprised to meet the eyes of holo-form Prowl, who—after making sure I wasn’t going to drop anything—held out his hands for the buckets I was carrying. I blinked at them. It wasn’t often anyone offered to help me out with the chores. Abby sure as hell didn’t. But nevertheless, I deposited the buckets into his awaiting hands and let him lead the way back to where Astraea was touching noses with Billy. He let me pat each of them first, before placing the buckets on the ground in front of them. They stuck their noses into them almost immediately.

           As they ate, I took the rubber-grooming comb out of the grooming kit and began to clean off the dried on mud from her coat, starting with her upper neck and working my way over to her tail. Prowl watched me silently as I worked. He seemed curious, but kept his distance for whatever reason, most likely out of fear of scaring Astraea.

           When it came time for me to use the soft-finishing brush, I got an idea. I picked up the brush, but instead of starting on Astraea I walked over to where Prowl was standing and held it out to him.

           “Why don’t you give it a try?” I said, when he did no more than stare at it. He looked at Astraea and then back at the brush, his expression totally emotionless. “Here,” I said, amused. I reached for his hand, taking it gently in my own, taking note of his stiffness, before slowly holding it up to Astraea’s nose. Her nostrils flared wide as she took in his scent. But when she didn’t react aside from pricking her ears and then shaking her head, I placed his hand directly onto her nose with my hand on top of his. We stood there for a moment. Then I moved my hand to scratch behind her ear, glancing at him to see if he’d removed his hand or not. He stroked her quietly, carefully, his expression remaining much the same, but his eyes changing to that of wonder when she lipped a couple of his pockets.

           “I think she likes you,” I said, and laughed. Eager as I was to start riding, I couldn’t help but feel delighted by Prowl’s company. Not to mention the look on his face was one I had never seen before. I wondered what the expression would like on his real faceplates. “Why don’t you give it a try?” I repeated, once more holding the brush out to him. This time he took it after only a moment’s pause. And I grabbed a second brush, demonstrating briefly the proper way to do it, before walking around to work on her right side whilst he brushed her left.

           He was good at it, I realized. He had remarkably gentle hands despite them not being his real ones. With the two of us working on Astraea together, she was soon groomed and ready to go in no time. I slipped the rubber bit into her mouth, before grabbing a hold of her mane and withers and leaping aboard her back.

           “I’m going for a ride up the mountain,” I said to Prowl. “I should be back in an hour or two.”

           Prowl looked for all the world like he wanted to object, but something in my eyes must have suggested that I was going to go no matter what he said, because he nodded and took a step back. His eyes still narrowed, however, and I got the feeling that he didn’t approve of me running off to be somewhere without him nearby.

           “I promise to come back within that time frame,” I said seriously.

           “Make sure that you do,” he said, his holographic form fizzling out; and with that I wheeled my mount around and cantered toward the opposite end of the upper level of the pasture.

           Astraea jumped the pasture fence easily, and soon we were cantering up into the forest. The prevailing wind of the mountains sang in my ears as I rode; my green silk blouse filled and ballooned; my hair loose and blowing. Lost in delight, I grinned, swaying a little to the rhythmic thud of Astraea’s hoofs; and leaning forward, I urged her faster, until it seemed we were but a phantom in the darkness.

           Suddenly Astraea pricked her ears. We were approaching the ledge where we always stopped. Around the shoulder of a hill on the mountainside we came upon it, and automatically Astraea slowed and then came to a stop with her head up. I slide off and removed her bridle. Instantly Astraea bent her head to graze, while I walked over to very edge and sat with my legs hanging over it.

           Leaving Prowl had made me melancholy, though I also felt something of relief that I’d been able to just leave and be alone for a while in the wilderness. Alone had always been like a place to me, as if it weren’t a state of being, but a house I had built for myself so that I had someplace where I could retreat to be who I really was. The radical aloneness that having the AllSpark within me had brought had altered that sense. Alone wasn’t a house anymore, but the whole wide world, and now I was alone in that world, completely and utterly alone no matter where I went, making the world feel both bigger and smaller to me. Perhaps that was why it was such a relief for me to return to something that was familiar and known.

           I sat there in the cool air of the morning, watching the sun rise over the same world of hills and plains, plateaus and headlands, mesas and mountains that I had laid eyes upon countless mornings before. I had missed this, I realized. The rising of the sun was sacred to me in a way I didn’t even fully understand.

           Far below beams of golden light danced across the farm house and I could just make out the black and white of Prowl parked in front of the little tin storage shed. I wondered if it was uncomfortable for him having to remain in vehicular mode all the time. He couldn’t transform because of the highway, but if he were to come out here he would be free to walk around as much as he pleased.

           I could use the exercise myself, I thought. At least on the island there had been the freedom to transform into whatever I’d wanted without the fear of being found out. Now I had to be careful. I also didn’t want to spook Astraea.

           I drew back from the ledge and lay down and suddenly felt very tired. At last I was home—the place where Astraea and Billy and my grandparents were. The grass I was lying on smelled sweet; the sky was close, and the beautiful hues of the sunrise curved over me—in a moment I was asleep.

           I woke with a jerk, coming up from such a deep place that it seemed I must have been asleep for hours.

           I was bewildered and sat up, trying to gather my wits. Then I remembered and scrambled to my feet—was I late?—Prowl might be out looking for me—I checked my internal chronometer and blew out a sigh of relief. I still had half an hour before I had to be back. Still, Prowl was nothing if not punctual.

           I put Astraea’s bridle on, hoisted myself aboard, and started home.

 

When the moon rose that night, after a day spent lounging with my animals in the pasture, I stood at my bedroom window, looking out across the dark at the pasture and the Green.

           Wide-awake for some strange reason, I told myself that I had _Jane Eyre_ I could read, as well as dozens of other novels on my bookshelf to choose from; but I just stood there, contemplating, looking across the Green.

           I was thinking about freedom and whether I would ever again have the chance to just be myself. Growing up I had wanted to be so many things—a writer, an artist, a fish store business owner—but had wound up being none of those things, aside from achieving my dream of being a proud horse owner. And what about getting married? Having children had never been one of my goals, but I’d always thought that eventually I would fall in love with some guy and get married. What was going to happen to my farm?—to my animals? I was receiving a salary now from the army while I was staying with them, so perhaps I could pay Abby to stay and look after it all for me. But was that really fair to her?—what about her life?

           I shook my head. I needed a distraction from all these thoughts setting fires in my brain.

           I glanced down at Prowl parked beneath me, motionless and silent, only the whitest parts of him visible in the rolling dark. I wondered if he was in recharge, if so I had better not wake him, though it wouldn’t hurt to see if he was asleep. At the very least, the fresh air might calm me some.

           My mind made up, I glided wearily across the wooden floor, past Abby’s room, down the stairs, and then down the hall to the front door, which I opened as quietly as I could, before slipping outside. The night was pitch-black aside from the subtle silver light offered by the moon, but despite this I found I could see nearly perfectly in monotones. I made my way over to where Prowl sat parked, hesitating a few feet away from him, unsure if he was in recharge or not.

           “Prowl,” I called softly, not wanting to wake him in the case that he was asleep.

           Wordlessly, the passenger side door opened, and I jogged over before ducking carefully inside. I settled into the seat, and it was only then that I realized that I was dressed only in my thin white nightgown and bottom underwear. Heat rushed to my face. I was half-tempted to run back inside to change, considering I was sitting inside a living male robot _half_ _naked_ of all things, but the seat was really comfortable and I was _technically_ still dressed enough to be considered decent—

         Oh, what the hell, I thought. Even if Prowl _were_ to see me naked in this form, I doubt he would find an organic body attractive.

         It was then I remembered that I was also barefoot. But that didn’t matter to me as much. I wiggled my toes, rubbing my foot into the plush softness of the foot mat, thinking about how nice a mat it was instead of the hard plastic I had in oldie-goldie Silver over there—

         And froze, remembering that this was Prowl I was rubbing my feet all over.

           “Um, sorry,” I half-whispered, the heat rising to my face yet again. He didn’t respond. And I started to wonder if he’d fallen asleep, but when I leaned back in my seat, the seat shifted backwards ever so slightly for me.

         The moon was full in the night sky, huge and theatrical above the black pine branches on the hill. The Green was in shadow, just the tips of the tin shed roof and lean-to for Astraea catching the faint light. I sat there in silence, watching the moon ascend higher and higher, floating softly.

           Out of the blue, I asked, “Do you believe in the afterlife?”

           “Yes,” Prowl said, his voice coming from all around me at once. “It is our belief that the afterlife is the wellspring from which all sparks are born.”

           I smiled softly. “Some of us humans believe the same thing.”

           “What do you believe?”

           “I believe in the afterlife,” I said quietly. “I have ever since I was a little. Not like a heaven where you play harps, sprout a pair of wings, and live in a mansion made of clouds. I believe humans have souls and in the conservation of souls. Only,” I said, and then I couldn’t finish my sentence. “Only,” I said again. I looked at the full moon. “I just wonder what will happen to me now that I’m Cybertronian. Will I go to my heaven—the heaven I’ve believed in all my life—or will I go to the well of sparks?”

           “Where do you want to go?”

           “I want—I want—” I swallowed. “I _want_ to see my grandparents again.”

           There was silence for a long moment. Then, “You will,” he said, his voice oddly firm. “Primus is not cruel. He would not keep you from your family, wherever they may be.”

           I was soothed less by his words than by his very presence. It had been a long time since anyone had just sat and talked with me like this. “Do you have a family?” I asked. When he didn’t respond, I looked at my hands in my lap. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

           “Did something interrupt your recharge that you wanted to speak to me?” he asked, his voice devoid of its former hints of emotion.

          “I guess I just wanted to be distracted,” I said quietly.

           There was no response. After a moment the seatbelt slide down across me, and he started to turn around slowly, driving down my gravel lane towards the highway. I wondered briefly where we were going, before I realized he was just taking me for a midnight drive, and sagged against the seat. “Thanks, Prowl,” I said.

           Silence met my ears.

           The car sped off down the highway, and I watched the scenery pass. I drank in the sight of the moon shining over the darkened treetops, and allowed myself to be lulled by the quiet sound of his engine and smoothness of the ride.

           I was asleep before we had even turned around.


	18. Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter was a biggie! 
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_“Remind why I had to come over here again?” I called to Abby the next morning, sitting_ with a fluffy violet towel wrapped around my shoulders, my wet hair dripping onto the floor behind me.

         She poked her head around the doorframe of the kitchen. “Simple. Because you promised that I could give you a much-needed haircut the next time I saw you.”

           I nodded. “I did,” I agreed. “I just don’t understand why I had to come to _your_ apartment when you practically live at my farm nowadays anyway.”

           “All of my supplies are here,” she said as she walked into living room carrying a hairdryer. “Plus with you at home now I don’t need to come over as often.”

           I smiled, and tried not to show that the news that she wouldn’t be coming over as often bothered me. “You better not cut off all my hair,” I said, and she smirked.

           “Trust me, Janie. By the time I’m done with all the boys will be after your sweet ass,” she said, and ran a comb through my damp hair. She used plastic clips to hold up parts of my hair as she began to cut the bottom ends.

           “What does my ass have to do with my hair?” I asked, teasing. “I mean, I know I have a sweet ass, but what good will it do me if my hair looks like shit?”

           Abby flicked the back of my head. “Shut up, and let me work my magic.”

           Rock music was playing in the background from her television, and I focused on that while she continued to trim up my hair. After riding out to watch the rising of the sun early this morning, Abby had called and Prowl had driven me over to her apartment about ten. As far as I knew, he was still parked outside, waiting for me as holo-form Prowl worked through a couple of his datapads.

           Thinking of Prowl reminded me of our midnight ride last night, and how I had woken up in my bed this morning despite having fallen asleep before we’d returned home. I smiled, when I realized that Prowl must’ve carried me up to my room while I was asleep. Abby glanced at me in the mirror.

           “You thinking of that devil-shit goat of yours?” she asked.

           “Yeah,” I lied. “Something like that.”

         Within fifteen minutes Abby had my hair trimmed and blow-dried. She picked up the straightener sitting on the side table and began to run it over strands of my blonde hair, letting it fall slowly onto my head using the comb.

           “Done!” she announced, combing her fingers through strands of my hair. “Tell me that does not look great.”

           “It looks amazing,” I said. And it did. While she hadn’t ended up taking off too much, she had shaped up my loose ends and given it some body. My hair still fell to the upper-middle of my back, but now felt silky smooth between my fingers. I shook my head a little just to test if everything would fall back into place. It did.

           “Told you I was good,” she said, smirking. She removed the towel from around my shoulders, dusting me off a little. “What’s with the wine?” she asked, gesturing to the bottle poking out of my purse.

           “This little thing?” I replied, lifting it. “I was going to give to you as a thank-you for looking after the farm for me.” Then—my eye catching the bottles stacked on her counter—I smirked. “But seeing how you’ve got a couple of bottles already I might just keep it.”

           “Are you crazy?” Abby asked. “Give me that bottle.”

 

I left her apartment half an hour later with my purse swung over my shoulder. As I was walking out the door Abby shoved a garbage bag into my hands and asked me to drop it down the chute on my way out. There wasn’t anything for me do except to do as she asked, so I did. The chute was located at the far end of the hall opposite of where I was headed, but I walked over anyway and opened the metal lid.

           It wasn’t until I had thrown the garbage bag down the chute and closed the lid that I became aware of an odd burning sensation in the back of my head. It felt as if I was being stared at. Turning, I glanced around briefly, but didn’t notice anyone else in the hallway. Everything seemed empty enough. Still, try as I might I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that someone was staring at me. Briefly I thought of walking back to Abby’s apartment, but then thought better of it. If I was indeed being stalked the last thing I wanted to do was put her in danger.

           _I’m being ridiculous_ , I thought. _I’m probably just paranoid from my experience with Barricade._

           I started to walk back down the way I’d come only for my body to stop almost of its own will. Standing at the end of the hallway was a young man. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, and was tall and wiry with a head of dark hair. On him he wore a dark shirt and belted pants, with a pitch-black trench coat that hung nearly to his feet.

           His appearance itself wasn’t that offsetting, though the trench coat was a _bit_ strange if you asked me, considering it was a warm and sunny out. It was something in his look that got me. Something that gave me the kind of pause I’d felt way back when I’d first laid eyes on Barricade—or should I say, his holoform.

           I looked at his eyes, and froze. His eyes were red. Just like Barricade’s had been after—

           My eyes widened, and I took an involuntary step backwards. My mind went to the elevator, which was stationed between us. It went to the door around the corner that led to where Prowl was parked outside, but that was in the hallway behind where the man was standing. It went to the fact that I was without a weapon and currently couldn’t transform where I was. And then it landed on the door leading to the stairs that was right beside me. I could feel the invisible line between that door and me like a hot thread. I didn’t stare at it, but the mans eyes flashed anyways, and he smirked a little as he took a step towards me.

           Without hesitating, I bolted to the door. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me up the flight of cement stairs, my mind shifting into a primal gear that was devoid of anything but forward motion, knowing the entire time that he wasn’t far behind me. Somewhere outside I could hear a car engine rev, either angrily or excitedly, I didn’t know. I just ran. I ran until I reached the second level door, and then rushed to open it before he grabbed me, managing to slam the door in his face seconds before he did exactly that. _Run_ , my mind screamed. So, I did.

           I ran down the carpeted hallway towards the far exit, only to stumble when a sharp grip on my arm yanked me back. I spun around to meet the triumphant red eyes of the Decepticon, who smirked and jerked me towards him. Without thinking, I drew back my free fist and punched him as hard as I could in the mouth. Instantly he wheeled back a little, looking surprisingly stunned. Then he snarled. The engine outside gunned as he squeezed my arm until I cried out. I tried to kick him, but the grip on my arm only tightened, further increasing my pain and making it impossible for me fight him.

           “Let me go!” I said, trying uselessly to get him to let go of my arm. I was nearly on my knees from the pain. I could literally hear the creak of the metal as it gave way beneath his iron grip.

           He only smirked. “I don’t think so, _femme_ —”

           Suddenly, his grip loosened and then dropped away altogether. I looked up to find the man being held in a chokehold by holographic Prowl, who was shorter than him by a few inches, making for a somewhat comedic pose. I didn’t stick around to watch them dish it out, I turned and dashed to the exit, practically flying down the stairs to the main hallway.

          Once there, I bolted out the set of doors—ignoring the shout of the landlord—to where Prowl was still parked outside. The door opened before I was even upon it, and I jumped inside. Immediately, the door slammed shut and his wheels squealed as he pulled away from the parking spot.

           “What the hell is going on?” I asked as soon as we were out on the road. It wasn’t like Prowl to speed. I’d only ever known him to drive within the sped limit, even on the highway.

           “We are being followed.” His voice came from the dash, and his siren suddenly switched on as we swerved frighteningly close around cars.

         I turned in my seat and looked out the rear window, and sure enough there was a silver Audi R8 weaving in and out of the cars behind us. I eyed the car with a growing sense of dread, and wondered briefly if that was the Decepticon whose holoform had tried to capture me in Abby’s apartment complex. If so, I did _not_ want to run into him again.

           We raced down the highway, dodging cars left and right, some of whom pulled over for us. We were approaching city-limits now. I looked over my shoulder again to see how far behind the Audi was, and nearly freaked when I realized that he was nearly upon us. Just as he was approaching our rear bumper, Prowl suddenly pulled into the right lane and slammed on the brakes, waiting until the Audi was ahead of us to pull back over so that now _we_ were directly behind him. I sat there, my heart racing, my hands clamped onto the edge of the seat, as Prowl proceeded to ram the Audi in the bumper. The Audi swerved nearly out of control, and Prowl slowed until there were multiple cars ahead of us. Then he turned into the right lane and onto the gravel and then off the highway entirely. I bit back a scream as we plummeted down the hill into the ditch, stopping just as soon as we reached the bottom.

         We idled there for a few minutes. The gun of the Audi’s engine had faded into the far distance, but still Prowl sat, silent and unmoving. I was about to ask why, but my mouth snapped closed when I spotted another Police car that shared quite a few similarities with Barricade pull onto the gravel shoulder above us and park there. I froze. Where we were in the ditch I didn’t think he could see us, but then maybe he was looking for us on the highway. I prayed to God he was just looking for us on the highway.

         After a moment, the police car pulled back onto the highway, and Prowl’s gear stick shifted into reverse as he drove backwards quite a ways down the ditch. He drove until a small stream blocked our path, and then turned the steering wheel to drive up the bank. I was surprised he could even make it up such a steep surface, but he climbed it with no issues. Then he merged back onto the highway.

           I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I was just starting to relax a bit when the silver Audi reappeared on the opposite side of the highway. At first he drove past and I thought he hadn’t seen us, but then he spun in an arc, racing after us, and once more Prowl shifted into high gear.

           The only downside to being a police cruiser, I thought, is that you stick out like a sore thumb.

           This time around, however, Prowl pulled straight over the side of road into the ditch. I wondered what he was doing until all at once, everything around me broke apart, and instead of sitting in my seat I found myself being held in a metal palm. Even as I was being deposited gently onto the grassy ground, I caught sight of the Audi transforming and rushing Prowl.

           “Look out!” No sooner were the words out of my mouth than Prowl had turned around and caught the incoming Decepticon. Together they landed mere feet away from me. I yelped and ran toward the tree line to hide, that strange burning back in my chest, urging me to run, to transform and get of here—

           I hid behind one of the trees and turned back to watch them fight. I watched as the silver bot deployed a set of spinning saw blades on his arms and crisscrossed his arms at Prowl, who rolled away at the last second, deploying his own acid gun at the same time and firing at the Decepticon. Suddenly the sound of a police siren hit my ears and I looked over to find the other police cruiser from earlier driving down into the ditch. He transformed right behind his ally who was holding his injured side and shot at Prowl.

           Immediately Prowl ducked and rolled out of the line of fire, landing on one of knees and firing a shot of his own. Barricade spun away, while the silver bot leaped at Prowl from the side, his blades spinning, aiming to hit one of Prowl’s wings. Prowl ducked, falling to his hands and sweeping the Decepicon’s legs out from under him. That was when Barricade laid optics on me.

          Uh oh.

           Immediately I ran deeper into the woods. Barricade still came after me though and I resisted the urge to scream as he swung his arms wildly trying to catch me. Nearby Prowl shot at him, hitting him in the shoulder, and he paused long enough to grab at his wound that it gave me time to get my bearings of what it was I was doing.      Why was I running? There was Prowl, risking his life to protect me, and here I was running away from it all like a coward. This wasn’t who I was. I wasn’t the type who just stood by and let someone else fight my battles for me.

           Once I realized this, I stopped and instead turned to face the Decepticon head on. Then I began running.

           I ran as fast as I could, triggering my transformation as I hit him dead on. The force of my body slamming into his sent us both rolling backward, and I landed on the ground a few feet away from him. Without waiting to get my bearings, I stood up shakily and dove at him. When he grabbed my wrists to keep from ripping out the cables in his throat, I head-butted him as hard as I could.

           CLANG!

           He snarled and winced, releasing one of my wrists to grab at his head. As soon as his grip disappeared I lashed out and pulled at more of his black neck cables, only for him to squeeze my wrist until I cried out. I made the mistake of letting go as soon as he did so, and he rolled over, pinning me beneath him.

           “Do yourself a favour, femme,” he said. “Come with us peacefully.”

           “Over my dead body!” I nearly snarled at him.

           Barricade growled, and his optics flashed. Before he could open his mouth and say anything, however, he was suddenly hit on the back of the head with the barrel of a gun and yanked off of me. Barricade snarled and tried to resist but Prowl merely shot him in the shoulder, banning the use of his right arm.

           I glanced around for the silver Audi, but he had already transformed back into a car and was hightailing it up the bank. Barricade must have glanced over the same time I did, because he too transformed and once again took off.

           I went to push myself up only to hiss in pain when a sharp stab radiated from my damaged arm and wrist. Prowl put his acid gun in subspace and knelt beside me, examining my arm with surprising gentleness, before tweaking a couple of cables in my wrist. I winced at the sharp shot of pain, before he touched something, and the pain fled.

           “I have deactivated the pain receptors in the area, however, I lack the expertise to properly repair the damage.” His optics narrowed. “That was a foolish thing you did.”

           “Which part?” I joked lightly. “The part where I attacked him instead of fleeing, or where I let go?”

         His face didn’t change. If anything it darkened even more. But, to his credit, he did seem to think about what I’d said. “Both,” he said finally. “However, I was initially referring to your decision to fight instead of fleeing. Not only did you put yourself in great danger by attempting to take on an opponent who outmatched you, but you also put the AllSpark at risk as well.”

           “I didn’t have a choice! I wasn’t going to just stand by and watch you get hurt because of me!”

           He stiffened. “You always have a choice. In everything you do there is a choice. I may have been outnumbered, however, in this case when it came to matching skill-levels it was the Decepticons who were outclassed.”

           “But I didn’t know that!” I said, my voice rising. “All I knew was that it was two against one!” I didn’t know why I was getting so defensive over his lecturing; maybe it had something to do with the fact that deep down I knew he was right. Barricade would have had me had it not been for Prowl’s interference. Still, I had held my own for the most part until I’d made the mistake of letting go when he’d squeezed my wrist. “Besides,” I said, holding my numb wrist, “I think I did pretty good for having never fought in a real battle before.”

           His optics hardened. “You survived only because it wasn’t their intent to kill you,” he said. Then he stood up. “We’re going. I’ve contacted Optimus, he’s agreed to send in a plane to pick us up at the coordinates of your residence.”

           “What? No!” I was on my feet in an instant. “I still have five days of my vacation left!”

           “Your injures require medical attention I’m not qualified to give.”

           “Then have Optimus send Ratchet to me!” I pleaded, feeling my optics begin to burn. “I’m not ready to leave home yet! I’m not ready to say goodbye!”

           Prowl’s wings twitched slightly as he stared at me hard. “It is illogical to think that you will ever be ready. What is the difference between leaving now, and leaving in five days?”

         “Because it’s my home,” I said, closing my optics. “If you were given the chance to spend five days at your home on Cybertron, wouldn’t you take it?”

           Prowl’s optics widened, before quickly returning to normal. His optics dimmed for a moment, and I knew he was thinking things over. “Very well,” he said finally. “I will allow you stay for the remainder of the five days—”

           My optics brightened.

           “However,” he said, and the former hardness returned to his optics, “you must understand that your safety has been compromised now that the Decepticons have been made aware of your return. You will have to be even more careful from this point forward.”

           “I understand,” I said. Then, without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him, forgetting for a moment that one of my arms was damaged and that Prowl wasn’t fond of being touched. “Thank you!” I quickly remembered though, when one of my arms didn’t bend the way I wanted and Prowl didn’t reciprocate my hug. I let go as if I’d been burnt. “Um, sorry.”

           Prowl didn’t say anything, just stared at me for a moment, before transforming down into the mustang and opening his door. I transformed down, taking a moment to wince at the sight of the massive purple bruise on my arm and wrist, before ducking carefully inside the awaiting cruiser. Slowly he turned around, and drove up the grassy bank onto the highway.

           As soon as my laneway came into view fifteen minutes later, I just couldn’t stop the smile that sprung onto my face.


	19. This Far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a breeze!
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_By eight a plane had dropped off Ratchet and the Chevy twins. By ten he had tended to_ my injuries and had driven off to where the plane was supposedly picking him up in another area, leaving Skids and Mudflap at the farm with us. I was too exhausted to contemplate arguing against it. After Ratchet left, I went up to my room in my now empty house, and methodically began to undress. Then I crawled under the covers on my bed and opened _Jane Eyre_ to read where I’d left off.

           When I turned off my light and lay on my creaky bed to sleep, I almost fancied I could hear Abby on the other side of the hall shifting around on her creaky bed too, her closeness as palpable as her distance. The fact that she wasn’t really there, that no one was anywhere, made me feel so lonely I could’ve howled with pain if I’d let myself. I didn’t know exactly why. It had been this way ever since my grandparents had died, over four years ago.

           I could see the outlines of my model horses by the dim moonlight that filtered into my room through the window, each horse sat neatly on my shelf in a single row. I thought about how my sister and I had used to play with those horses down in the basement, how we’d made an entire farm for them, how I used to believe that those days would never end. I wondered about the well of sparks and whether I would be joining them someday. Part of me hoped not, but another part of me also hoped that I would. I wanted to be a part of something, but I also wanted to return to what was familiar to me. Even though I’d had dreams, after my grandparents had died it was like my life had been put on hold. In my darkest moments after their deaths I had contemplated calling a therapist, but ultimately I never did. I had grief no therapist could ameliorate.

           I got out of bed, put on a pair of underwear, and, stepping barefoot down the hall, walked downstairs to the front door. I stepped onto the porch and stood staring for a moment at the stars. It was a beautiful, clear night. I looked over at the black and white outline of Prowl visible in the moonlight. I contemplated going over there, but was weary about bothering him. So I just stood there, staring at him, until his side door opened for me.

           Wordlessly I tiptoed down the steps over to where he was parked and ducked inside. I curled up on my side and closed my eyes and felt the seat shift back until it was nearly flat. I got the feeling I used to get as a child when I would create a tent out of my blankets: as if the outside world had disappeared and become, through the simple act of enveloping, a warm and inviting place. I lay there silent but awake for as long as I could, listening to gentle thrum of his engine, while the actual world around us hummed on.

 

I woke up at quarter to seven in the same position. As much as it bothered me that I had missed the rising of the sun, I had to admit that waking with the knowledge that I wasn’t alone was kind of nice. For the first time in a long time, I hadn’t dreamt of a single thing; my dreams deliciously blank. “Good morning,” I said to the dash. Then I blushed slightly. It occurred to me then that I had literally spent the night inside of him. I hadn’t meant to stay; I’d just wanted an hour or so away from the overbearing quiet of the house.

           I climbed out of the car and stood slowly, taking in the sounds of the birds that were indifferent to me, my bare feet on the rocky dirt. I walked up to the house, took a shower, and returned to where all three Autobots were still parked. Not only were the twins awake, they were bickering, most likely over their private bond because I couldn’t actually hear them, I just watched as they took turns hitting each other with their front doors. I shook my head at their antics before turning to Prowl.

           “So I was thinking about my ride on Astraea,” I said to him, holding my cube of energon and swirling it. “What if you and the twins came with me? It would give you a chance to stretch your legs. It’s pretty secluded up there, so you wouldn’t have to worry about being found out by anyone. I don’t have any neighbours for miles.”

           “I am uncertain whether that is a good idea,” he said, after a long moment. “We would have to transform early on in order to navigate the terrain, and your horse is unacquainted with our bipedal forms.”

           I nodded in understanding. As of yet Astraea hadn’t witnessed us transform in front of her. While she may not have reacted negatively to Prowl’s holoform, there was still no telling exactly what she would do once she was faced with a giant, metal robot of all things. Never mind four of them.

           Still that didn’t change the fact that I was a Cybertronian now and Astraea was my horse. If I ever wanted her to get used to me in my bipedal form, the only way to acclimate her was to expose her to my transformation. And if she did spook while we were up on the mountain, she would just return here. I liked to think that I knew my horse pretty well in regard to her behaviour and reactions, so I was confident of this. If they transformed with me on her, I was fairly certain I could get back under my control. I opened my mouth—

           “Comes on, man!” Mudflap said. “Femme said so herself, there ain’t nobody round for miles!”

           “Yeah, our legs needs some stretchin!”

           I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you guys _just_ get here last night?” I said to them.

           “Yeah, but they’s sore already!” Skids answered.

           I rolled my eyes, before turning back to Prowl. “See what you’re going to have to put up with?” I said, teasing. Then I sighed. “But in all seriousness, I do think it is a good idea to expose Astraea to our bipedal forms. Sooner or later, she’s going to see us transform anyway.” I took another sip of my energon, savouring the taste.

           “I will trust your judgment then,” he said finally. And after what had happened yesterday he had no idea how much those words meant to me.

           “Great!” I said with a smile, putting my half-empty cube away in subspace. “Let me just groom Astraea and then we’ll be good to go!” I started to walk to the storage shed, but then paused, turning back with a hand on my hip. “Actually, Prowl, would you mind helping me out with Astraea again?” I asked, half wondering if he would say no.

           In answer to my question, Prowl’s holoform manifested in the driver’s side of the cruiser, before opening the door and following me over to the shed. Together we carried the feed buckets and brushes over to where Astraea and Billy were waiting by the fence, with Prowl pausing to let Astraea nose his vest pockets again, before stooping to deposit the two buckets onto the ground in front of them.

           Grooming Astraea didn’t take very long. With the two of us rubbing her down at the same time, there was less than I would have had to do individually, so we were done within ten minutes. When the time came to put on her bridle, I held it out to Prowl after a brief demonstration. I was surprised when he took it with no words and slipped it on exactly as I had shown him. I wondered if perhaps I was pushing him onto her too much—I _was_ working on the basis of an assumption, after all—but then Astraea shook her head and thrust her nose toward him, and he actually _smiled_ a little.

           I blinked, unsure if my eyes were seeing correctly or not. Smiling Prowl wasn’t exactly something I’d ever thought I would see. But when nothing changed in terms of his expression or the way he was gently stroking her muzzle, my jaw dropped.

           Prowl glanced over at me, probably wondering why I was just standing there, and just like that the smile was gone. I continued to stare at him in open amazement though, and after a moment passed of us just staring silently at each other he raised an eyebrow, his hand still against Astraea’s nose. I just shook my head, smiling, and waved at the twins. “Alright, boys, we’re good to go!”

           Hopping into Astraea’s back, I grabbed a hold of the reins and steered her in a half circle; a gentle squeeze with my calves, and then we were cantering across the pasture. Looking over my shoulder, I saw that Prowl was leading the way down the outer side of the fence on the grass. Briefly I wondered how they would hold up in their alternate modes once we reached some of the rougher terrain, but then figured we would cross that bridge if it appeared.

           Cantering alongside Prowl it was then an idea sprung to mind, and, taking a hold of Astraea’s long mane, I pressed my knees tighter against her body. The mare broke out of her canter into a fast gallop. The wind blew into my face. I looked over at Prowl and found that he had sped up slightly to keep up, the rev of his engine like music to my ears. The Chevy twins had already answered my challenge, taking turns passing each other as they drove. I kept Astraea galloping, speeding her up bit by bit, glancing every now and then at Prowl.

           Then I saw it. The tiniest forward pull on Prowl’s part—

          And, like a shot from a gun, Astraea bolted forward. She picked up speed with amazing swiftness. Faster and faster she went. I hung low over her neck, urging her on. Down the pasture we thundered, and as a flash the fence sprung into view. I felt Astraea gather herself; instinctively I leaned forward and held Astraea firm and steady with my hands and knees. Then we were in the air, sailing over the fence. We landed with a dull thud on the other side, but continued to gallop at a blazing speed. With a grin, I glanced over at Prowl, my golden hair streaming like banners behind me, and noticed that he was keeping pace easily enough.

           It wasn’t much of a challenge for him, I knew. A horse against a Mustang car? The car would win every time. Still, it was great fun galloping Astraea like this, even if there was no way in hell we could win. Astraea seemed to enjoy it as well, running with her nose out and ears pricked.

           Suddenly Prowl shot forward like a bullet, his engine gunning, and I grinned manically as I urged Astraea to run faster after him. The mare’s stride was effortless, and I found it breathtaking to ride. Upon reaching the base of the mountain, Prowl slowed, and Astraea pulled ahead of him as I tried to check her speed. I pulled back on the reins. Finally Astraea’s pace lessoned, shifting into a fast trot which gradually became slower and slower, until I had her stopped.

           I released my grip from Astraea’s mane and circled my arms around her neck, before dropping onto my feet. Prowl and the Chevy twins pulled to a stop a few feet away from us, and Astraea looked at them, her head held high, her body only slightly covered with sweat.

           I laid one hand against her neck, keeping the rein between us loose in the case that bolted or reared, and then I nodded. Immediately the twins transformed up and stood, surprisingly calm and quiet for once as they stared at Astraea, who spooked a little at the sight and sounds of them transforming. I didn’t try and rein her in, only stood there, keeping my hand on her, while I talked soothingly into her ear. Astraea flicked her ears back and forth as she gazed at them with her dark eyes.

           “See, they aren’t going to hurt you,” I murmured, waiting patiently. After a few minutes, she had calmed down enough that Prowl was able to transform with little-to-no reaction on her part. I made a down motion at him with my hand and he knelt down onto one knee.

           My spark thrummed in my chest and I gazed at my mare. “Come on, Astraea,” I said. I walked forward a few steps. Astraea hesitated and then followed. Again I took a couple of steps forward. Slowly we approached the group. Then Astraea halted, her nostril quivered and she danced sideways. I could see that she was nervous; she trusted me, but her natural instincts warned her against approaching these strange, metallic beings. Soothingly I spoke to her. Slowly I carried the reins over her neck and backed away towards Prowl—Astraea raised her head nervously and followed. As I neared Prowl, she stopped. “Come on, girl!” I called. I kept backing up until my back bumped against Prowl and then, so she saw me, ran one of my hands over his armour. When that didn’t work, I pulled out my ultimate weapon.

           A carrot.

          I waved the carrot temptingly and saw Astraea’s head jerk towards me. Her nostrils quivered and she took a single step forward. I reached a hand out. “Come on, Baby!” I called. “Come for the carrot!” Finally Astraea shook her head and came at a fast walk over, thrusting her nose at me. I ran my hand over her soft muzzle, before presenting the carrot to her, which she immediately took a large bite of. I laughed, and threw my arms around her.

           After that leading her around the Autobots was easy. I didn’t even need to use the reins, I simply walked in and around them, calling her name as I went, and she followed me. The twin’s behaviour was excellent, and part of me wondered if Prowl had said something to them because for once they stood perfectly still and remained silent while I led Astraea back and forth around them.

           When I felt she was ready, I hauled myself up onto her back and nodded at the Autobots. They followed at a walk a short distance behind as I trotted Astraea up the mountainside. The spruce and pine trees provided little hindrance for the bots, and they kept up surprisingly well as we went deeper into the forest, sometimes passing over brown, tree-barren areas. Finally we reached my special peak, and I hopped off Astraea, slipping off her bridle, laying it on the grass at my feet. As soon as Astraea was free she immediately bent her head to graze. I let her and walked away a short distance before transforming up myself.

           I hadn’t realized just how much I’d needed this myself. As soon as all my parts fell into place and I was standing, it was like a tenseness that had been there since I became aware that I wasn’t going to be able to transform as freely just disappeared. I stretched luxuriously and spun, forgetting for a moment that I was posed near the edge of a cliff. Prowl remembered though, and he took a step forward in case I fell. I stopped and smiled, before turning to face the cliff.

           The twins were still being quiet and still, tiptoeing around Astraea as though they were afraid she would suddenly spook at the sight of them and run to her death over the edge. It was kind of funny, to say the least. But as I stood looking over at the expanse below me, I was thankful was the silence.

           The sun danced over the small stream that ran through the lower end of my pasture, glinting off the tin lean-to and storage shed. My optics searched the grounds for Billy and I fancied I could see a speck that resembled him meandering through the pasture. A shadow of solemnity fell over me as I cycled in the cool mountain air, and I wrapped my arms around myself. Thinking of all the times I had stood here as a human, of the time my grandfather had taken me up here.

         “Is this where you come when you ride out every morning?” Prowl asked, his shoulder nearly brushing mine as he came to stand beside me.

         I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and he gazed wordlessly below. I briefly wondered if he thought I was stupid for having dragged them up here just to gaze off a cliff, but when I glanced at him his face showed no irritation. It was then that I took in the dirt splattered across his armour and itched with the nonsensical urge to wipe it off. I started to reach out—

         “Praxus.”

          I blinked, unsure if he’d actually spoken or if I was just hearing things. “What?”

           “Praxus,” Prowl repeated quietly. “That was the name of city where I lived on Cybertron.”

           “Praxus?” I said, looking at him with open interest. I was every bit as stunned to hear him speak as I was to hear him speak about his past.

           He nodded. “In Praxus there was a place called the Helix Gardens. It contained thousands of crystals, which hung suspended in methane. I used to walk through the Gardens for many earth-hours listening to the sounds of the crystals.”

           “Sounds of the crystals?”

           “Yes,” Prowl said. “The crystals resonated with a sound that invoked peace and tranquility.”

           “That sounds amazing,” I said, picturing a thousand colourful crystals making music. It was a beautiful sight even in my mind.

           “It was spectacular,” he said, with a small smile. “You would have enjoyed it, I think.”

           “I would have loved it,” I replied with a smile, and was thrilled when his smile didn’t disappear. It was then I remembered his dirt-speckled chassis, and grimaced slightly. “And hey, how about when we get back I give you another wash?” I said.

           “Yo, what about us?” said Mudflap, from behind us. I turned around to find him and his twin flat against a pair of trees behind Astraea.

           “Yeah, toots, we needs a good washin!” Skids piped up.

           “Don’t call me ‘toots,’” I replied, trying not to laugh at the sight of them. Then I placed a hand on my hip. “Alright, I agree to wash you so long as you two behave.”

           Both of them nodded their heads vigorously, and I turned back to Prowl whose smile was gone but optics still seemed bright. “Ready to head back?” I asked, and he nodded.

           Transforming down into my human form, I walked over to where Astraea was grazing a few feet away from the twins and picked up her bridle. She lifted her head as I approached her, and I slipped the rubber bit gently between her teeth, before taking a hold of her mane and swinging my foot over her back.

           Together we made our way back toward the farm.


	20. The Shattering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_We didn’t race on our way back, but made good time anyway. After making sure that_ Astraea was taken care of, I collected some sponges and rags in a bucket, turned the hose on, and proceeded to soak Prowl with it. The water was freezing to the touch, and I apologised prior to spraying him with it, knowing ahead of time that this wash probably wasn’t going to be all that pleasant. Prowl shuddered when I hit him with the cold water, but aside from that voiced no complaint, and grew still once I began to scrub his hood with the squeegee. I continued to wash him for the next half hour, until I heard a car approaching behind me and turned.

          It was Abby’s blue SUV. A few moments later, it came to a halt beside me, with a rather exasperated-looking Abby at the wheel.

           “You left your purse in the hallway of my apartment,” she said after she rolled down the window. My spark sank, though I thanked her and opened the back seat to grab my purse. I’d been hoping that she would have called ahead of time to inform me that she was coming over. It was unlike her to just show up out of the blue, since she typically avoided coming over at all costs. I hadn’t had a chance to come up with a cover story yet for the Chevy twins. Discreetly I returned to the window and tried to block her view from where they were parked, but she only put a cigarette in her mouth and bent her head forward to hold it to the lighter. Her eyes passed over me. Then she did a double take on something past me.

           “Where the hell did those cars come from?”

           I blinked, and swallowed, completely at a loss for words. I turned and looked at the Chevy twins, honestly unsure if I should spill my guts to her, or just play it off as something else. I knew Abby was trustworthy when it came to keeping personal secrets, and yet, if she were to find out, it would also put her in danger, which was what primarily kept my mouth shut.

           When I didn’t say anything, Abby narrowed her eyes and opened her door. She went to walk around me but I grabbed her arm. “Wait, Abby, there’s something I need to tell you.” I glanced at Prowl, who was silent and still, before turning back to face Abby who was giving me an odd look. “I—” I said, and then couldn’t finish my sentence. “It’s just—” I said again. I closed my eyes. “Remember that stalker cop I was telling you about?” I waited until she nodded, before I continued. “Well, the truth is, he’s not so much a cop as he is . . . well . . . a giant alien robot.” I grimaced, and her eyes flared in anger.

           “Are you even hearing yourself right now?” Her words were a disbelieving hiss. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that you’re being hunted by a _robot_?”

           “It’s the truth,” I said, but she ripped her arm out of my grip.

           “Bullshit,” Abby said. “This entire time you’ve been _lying_ to me—”

           “Abby,” I said to her.

           “And what about that officer you introduced me to? Don’t tell me he’s actually been _feeding_ this ridiculous delusion—”

           “This is _not_ a delusion,” I interrupted sharply. “Believe it or not, I’m telling you the truth. Barry Cade is a fake name. His real designation is Barricade. And, yes, he’s actually a giant alien robot. Same goes for that officer I introduced you to. You want to speak to him? He’s _right_ over there.” I pointed to where Prowl was parked a little ways behind us.

           “Are you being fucking serious right now, Jane?” She said. “Listen to yourself right now. That’s a fucking _car._ And don’t say anything, let me guess: the Chevy cars are actually robots in disguise too.”

           “They really are,” I said, but she was already walking towards them.

           “They’re just _cars_ , Jane,” she said. She approached Mudflap and kicked his tire hard. “See? Would I be able to do that if he was actually an alien robot?” She kicked him again for good measure, while I looked on in shock.

          I opened my mouth, but, feeling a strange sensation wash over me, closed it. I looked over my shoulder at the SUV that was parked right behind me, and my inside tingled with such a strong urge to bolt that I actually took a step away from it. _What am I doing? It’s just an SUV that Abby’s had since I bought Astraea._ Still, I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling that I was being watched, and when Abby went to walk by me I grabbed her arm again to stop her.

           “What the hell?” Abby tugged her arm. “Let me go, Jane. I’m leaving.”

           I ignored her complaints and instead examined the SUV more closely. It didn’t look like there was anything wrong with it. It even had Abby’s pink-coloured skull air freshener hanging off the rear-view mirror.

         I took a single step forward, and the entire thing exploded into a tangled mess of moving parts. Abby screamed and the Decepticon shot towards us like a bullet out of a gun. Before I could so much as blink, however, Prowl had transformed up and tackled the Decepticon head on. I heard Skids and Mudflap transforming behind us, and dragged Abby back with me towards them. As soon as Abby realized where we were headed, she screamed again and tried to break away from me.

           “Abby, stop!” I shook her as she stared up at them with wide eyes. “Look. Look at me,” I said, waiting until she did before I continued. “They aren’t going to hurt you and neither is the black and white bot, okay? Your SUV was a Decepticon. Everything I told you up until now was more or less the truth, just a different version of it. I’ll explain everything to you later, I promise. But right now we need to get somewhere safe, okay?”

           “Oh my God! Giant robots are _real_?” She looked from me to them. “We need to run!”

           Just then the silver Audi R8 from yesterday came speeding down my laneway, along with Barricade. My eyes widened and I yanked Abby nearly off her feet as I ran over to the pasture fence and called for Astraea who was standing on the other side. Her head rose high; she galloped across the pasture to me, rearing slightly at the noise and sights, her legs striking out in front. When she came back down I turned and ran my hand across her flared nostrils soothingly, before hoisting myself onto her back. “Get on,” I said to Abby, who appeared white and shaken.

           “But—”

           “There’s no time! Just, please trust me!”

           For once she complied, stepping off the fence to land neatly on Astraea’s back. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and, once I felt she was situated, I grabbed a hold of Astraea’s dark mane. “Hold on tight,” I said to Abby, as I squeezed Astraea’s sides. Immediately the mare went high and then sprung into a fast-moving gallop. Using my knees, I steered her toward the other end of the pasture.

           “After the femme, Sideways!” I heard someone shout a little ways behind us. I turned my head in time to see the silver bot transform and speed after us. Instantly I urged Astraea into high gear. Her ears flicked back and she responded with a burst of speed. Faster and faster she went until once again the landscape became a blur, and only the sight of the upcoming white fence was there to guide me. I prayed that she would be able to clear the fence.

           With a mighty leap we were airborne. I felt Abby lean as I leaned, and then the front legs hit the ground with a dull thud and we were off again. Astraea set off like a black rocket towards the forest. I did a shoulder check to see how far away Sideways was, alarmed to find that he was nearly upon us. I urged Astraea onward, knowing that if we could just reach the forest he would be forced to transform and we might actually stand a chance of getting away. I heard him transform behind us. Just a little farther—

           Suddenly a shot struck the ground next to Astraea and we were blown off. I hit the ground with a dull thud. Abby landed somewhere next to me. I raised my head and looked at her, relived to find that she was already moving. But then my eyes turned to the motionless black body laying a few feet away, and I froze.

           Astraea was dead, I knew. Her neck had broken when she’d been cast forward onto it from the eruption. Still, as I half-laid there staring at her, taking in the way her silky mane was splayed out around her, my spark refused to accept it.

           My horse, Astraea, was dead.

           My wrist throbbed painfully as I pushed myself shakily to my feet, but I could not bring myself to care. My clothes were covered in grass stains. Strands of golden hair had blown onto my face. I pushed them numbly away, unable to even register the pain or what was happening around me. I knelt beside Astraea’s belly and ran my hands along her black body for one last time. She was still warm, and I crawled to her head and touched her ears, soft as velvet. I put my hands over her unseeing eye and closed her eyelid.

           I could distantly hear Abby calling to me, desperately trying to warn me about something, and turned just in time to feel a metal hand pluck me from the ground. Feral red optics smirked at me. Abby screamed at me. I just stared up at him blankly, feeling an emotional numbness flow through me.

           Then suddenly a blast hit Sideways in the arm and I was falling. As the ground rushed up to meet me, I felt a tendril of a feeling. I transformed up before my body hit the ground, and, without giving myself a chance to stabilize, lashed out with my hand at the Decepticon. I caught him right in the throat and pulled as hard as I could at the tubing there, listening as he screamed. Before I could grab more, however, I felt my damaged wrist being grabbed. Pain shot up my arm, but instead of bowing to it like I had yesterday I lashed out with my other hand and struck him in the center of his right optic.

           He snarled and winced, stepping back, his optic sparking. Heat blossomed in my chest, and, without waiting for him to recover; I ran over and plucked Abby from the ground, dashing towards the woods with her in my hands. My intent was to get her to safety and then return to face him, but before I’d taken even two steps in the direction I was headed a shot rang out, piercing the ground beside me. I stopped and covered Abby, before slowly turning back around.

            “Running off so soon?” Sideways sneered. Energon leaked down his throat, but his blaster pointed right at me. “Come with me now or I’ll shoot your little friend there.”

           “Yeah because you totally wouldn’t shoot her anyways if I agreed, right?” I snarled, my mind once again going to Astraea. Blackness started to close in around the corners of my vision, but I shook it off. I needed to stay strong if I was going to get both Abby and me out of this alive.

           Just then another blast hit Sideways in the back and I turned to see Prowl with his gun out as he battled with Barricade in the middle of the pasture. The twins were battling it out with the green bot—Abby’s former SUV—a little ways away from him, spewing various profanities at the Decepticon as they took turns shooting at him.

           Suddenly Sideways turned and shot at Prowl, barely missing his wing tip as he ducked and rolled. I could hear Barricade shout something in Cybertronian and next thing I knew both of them were targeting Prowl. I froze. My head screamed at me to run while they were distracted, but my spark screamed at me to help.

           “Jane! We need to _go_!”

           But I couldn’t move. I watched as the green bot also took a shot at Prowl from where he was duelling the twins and hit him square in the side. Prowl stumbled, but kept fighting, despite the fact that energon now leaked from his wound. Abby was yelling at me to run, but my legs felt like rubber.

           I didn’t stand a chance against any of them, I knew. If anything I’d probably just end up getting in the way. Still, I knew I had to do _something_ to try and help.

           “I can’t leave,” I gasped. I placed Abby down near the edge of the forest so she could hide. “I have to help him!”

           “Are you _crazy_?” Abby yelled.

           I didn’t answer. I only stood back up and ran towards where the fighting was taking place. Prowl was still holding his own against the Decepticons, but barely. I could see that his wound was weakening him. Without stopping to reconsider my plan, I rushed Sideways from behind and leaped onto his back.

           Immediately he snarled and tried to dislodge me, but I had years of practice on my side from having done the same thing to my sister and hung on like a monkey. I put him in a chokehold, not sure if it would have any effect on him or not, and then hung on for dear life as he spun and tore at me with his hands. When the chokehold seemed to have no effect on him, I took to beating him in the back of the head with my fist as hard as I could as he spun around, screeching. Finally, he managed to grab a hold of me and pulled me over his head onto my back, knocking the air out of me. He aimed a blaster at my head, but just as he took the shot, Prowl lashed out with his hand, causing the Decepticon to misfire at the ground beside me.

           Surprisingly Barricade also growled and snarled something in Cybertronian at Sideways, whose blaster moved from me to Prowl. I quickly scrambled to my feet to tackle Prowl out of the way of the shot, feeling the ground explode mere inches from where he’d been standing. I landed on Prowl’s back—thankfully not on his wings—and immediately went to get up, but the barrel of gun pointed at the back of my head stopped me dead in my tracks.

           “What’s wrong, femme? Lost your nerve already?” Sideways said with a snarl as he held the throat injury I’d given him. It was then I realized that the gun wasn’t pointed at me but rather at Prowl, who must’ve already realized this fact for himself because he remained on his hands and knees.

           Barricade growled, and grabbed my arm to pull me up. “Enough. The femme is coming with us. Megatron will decide what to do with her.” He pushed me roughly over to Sideways, who, with a little smirk, grabbed me tightly by my damaged wrist, causing me to cry out in pain.

           Prowl jolted, but before he could attempt anything Barricade smashed his foot onto his back, pushing him into the dirt, keeping his cannon aimed at his head. Blue energon seeped onto the grass from his wound, and it took everything in me not to try and break free from the hand that was holding me. Tears of frustration and fear filled my optics as it hit me then just how utterly useless I really was. Instead of helping him, all I’d managed to do was get him shot and us captured.

           Not to mention that Astraea was dead.

           The darkness returned to the corners of my vision as I looked over at the body laying a few feet away in the grass. It occurred to me then that I wouldn’t even have the chance to bury her if I was taken by the Decepticons. The coyotes would be the ones to drag her body away, and tear her limb from limb. Everything started to shut down around me, the noises, colours, until I realized I was swaying on my feet and that Sideways had pulled me closer to keep me from toppling over. Even Barricade was giving me a strangely contemplative look.

           Suddenly shots began to ring out upon the Decepticons. I looked over in time to see Ironhide firing at them from the tree line, ducking and rolling whenever they happened to fire back. My spark swelled, and I glanced over at the highway thrilled to see that even more Autobots were speeding towards us.

             Barricade took a blast to the chest, and as soon as he did Prowl rolled onto his back and fired his own shot up at him using his acid gun. He fired at Sideways too, and the grip on my wrist disappeared as the silver bot’s hand changed into a blaster again to fire back. Without thinking, I rammed into Sideways before he could take the shot, nearly getting blasted myself.

             A flash of silver caught the corner of my vision, and before I knew it, Sideways was being attacked by an agile bot with wheels for feet. I watched with wide optics as he maneuvered tightly around the Decepticon before lashing out with his swords at his back. An accompanying yellow flash also caught my attention as another mech with pristine armour coolly went after Barricade, pounding him in the face with his fists. Together they attacked with such ruthless precision that I actually took a step away from them, before dashing back in to wrap my arms around Prowl, who at this point was stumbling to get out of the way as well.

           “Jane!” I lifted my head then to find Ratchet running towards us.

             He lifted Prowl’s other arm over his shoulder, helping cradle his weight, and together we half-carried-half-pulled him out of the line of fire. As soon as we were far enough out of the battle, Ratchet set Prowl down on the grass and quickly set to work on his still-leaking wound. The dimness of Prowl’s optics scared me almost as much as the gaping hole in his side, and I gripped his hand tightly.

           “Prowl? Prowl, look at me,” I said desperately. He didn’t seem to hear me, and I moved one of my hands to his cheek. “Look at me, Prowl!” Pinpricks of tears began to cloud my vision as I heard Ratchet curse in Cybertronian. “Dammit, Prowl, look at me!”

             Finally, slowly, his dull optics turned to face me, and I could have laughed the relief was so strong. Ignoring the sounds of the battle raging on around us, I rubbed my thumb over his cheek in what I hoped what a soothing manner, and continued to talk to him, my breath hitching at the way his optics seemed to be growing dimmer by the minute. I prayed that he would be okay.


	21. Picking Up The Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will get better for Jane soon, I promise! But realistically, there are times when life comes along and throws a brick at your face. 
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_Once Prowl was stabilized, Optimus arrived shortly after pulling a huge trailer behind_ him _._ Turns out I’d been so focused on watching Ratchet patch Prowl’s injury that I hadn’t even realized that the Decepticons had fled. As Ratchet and Ironhide loaded Prowl into the trailer, which turns out was _not_ empty but had a flat bed inside for transport; I looked around for Abby, finding her running around like a chicken and screaming at the top of her lungs. Skids and Mudflap were trying their darndest to calm her down, but I think the sight of them only worsened her fear, and I quickly transformed down before running over there to catch her.

           I grabbed Abby’s arm and immediately she freaked, scratching and screaming at me to let go. Then she realized it was me and drew me in for the biggest hug in the history of hugs ever given between us. When she finally pulled away, her eyes were narrowed, and she slapped me across the face.

           “ _That’s_ for not telling me the truth!” she said sternly, and my jaw dropped.

           “Says the girl who thought I was crazy!” I countered, but her expression didn’t fade.

           “You could’ve been killed!” she yelled. “What the hell were you thinking?”

           “That’s just it,” I said, “I wasn’t.” I grasped my locket, feeling the waves of pain wash over me as I thought about all the mistakes I’d made in a single day and what those mistakes had cost me. “I _never_ should have gotten on Astraea,” I said, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. “And Prowl—” My voice cracked.

           Abby’s face softened, and she hugged me again, this time rubbing small circles on my back. “For what it’s worth, I am really sorry about Astraea,” she said.

           I didn’t answer, just buried my head in the crook of her neck like I had used to do to my grandmother when I was too upset to speak. I didn’t want to break down crying with the Autobots still around, but having Abby here just weakened the wall I had built around myself. I felt like a part of me had shattered.

           For once Abby didn’t say anything and just let me cry, and after a few minutes a clean-cut paramedic came over. “Prowl’s condition has stabilized, but we need to get him back to base,” he said in a voice that sounded remarkably like Ratchet. “In the meantime, I would like you to ride with me so I can tend to the injury you sustained to your wrist.”

           I pulled back from Abby and looked her square in the face. “What about Billy?” I asked, my voice sounding hollow even to my ears.

           “What about old man Philips?” she replied. “Doesn’t he have a couple of sheep next door?”

           I blinked, before turning to the man I was pretty sure was Ratchet’s holoform. He had neatly combed black hair and grumpy blue eyes. “Do you mind if we drop off my goat on the way?” I asked him, half expecting him to look at me like I was insane and say no. He did neither of those things, however, instead his gaze fixed to my face for a long moment, before he nodded and fizzled out.

          Abby’s face paled at the sight of him just fading from existence, but thankfully she just grabbed my hand and dragged me over to where Billy was currently head-butting Skids in the side door. Skids quickly reversed to get away from him, but Billy merely rammed him again. Mudflap, I noticed, also had a dent in the side of his door and steered clear of the goat altogether.

           “What the fuck, man!”

           “Not cool, yo!”

           I couldn’t help but laugh at the scene, forgetting my grief for a moment. I went over to Billy and grabbed his horn, pulling his face up to mine and kissing him on the nose. He mouthed my yellow-knit sweater, and I led him by the horn over to where the yellow search and rescue H2 Hummer was parked, waiting for us. The back part opened as we approached, and we climbed in the dual doors, pulling Billy in with us, earning an odd look from Ironhide who was nearby.

           Ratchet set off as soon as we were situated, and I looked out the windows at my farm as we drove away. Both the house and pasture were empty now, and I felt a forlornness seep into my spark knowing that the next time I came back there would be no Astraea or Billy to greet me at the fence. I was completely alone now.

           Ratchet pulled into the laneway of the next farm we came across, and me and Abby climbed out with Billy. I walked up to the front door and hesitated with my fist posed above it, suddenly unable to knock, before old man Philips himself appeared from around the barn with a bucket in his hand. He seemed surprised to see us and even more surprised to see the medical Hummer parked in his driveway.

           “Can I help you with something?” he called, looking from me to Abby, who was holding Billy, to the Hummer and back again, his grey hair flopping over his eyes. I forced a smile onto my face and descended the porch steps to meet him.

          “Actually, you can,” I said ruefully. “I know this is sudden, but is there any way you could take in my goat Billy? I’m leaving town for a few weeks and have no one to look after him.”

           “This is quite sudden,” he said, rubbing his chin. But at my pleading look, his old eyes softened. “But I do have plenty of room. So I don’t suppose one more could hurt—”

           “Oh, thank you!” I nearly cried. I had mixed feelings leaving Billy with old man Philips. Even though I’d never known him to anything but kind, Billy had never met him, and I felt as though I was abandoning him with with a stranger. He was all that I had left next to possessing the farm. And now, he too, would be gone.

           As we drove away from old man Philips and Billy, I couldn’t even bring myself to look out the windows. All in one day, I had lost nearly everything.

           Ratchet’s holoform appeared not long after we started driving, and wordlessly I held out my wrist for him to work on. He stared at me hard, before he vented and set to work on fixing my wrist without a word. Next to me Abby was quiet, but kept shooting me sympathetic looks. I ignored her, my body strangely numb as my mind replayed old images of Astraea and Billy playing in the pasture together, him licking the crumbs out of her feed bucket, him standing on her back, him beating at the back door so he could be fed.

           And the grandparents. Always the grandparents. The ones who would never come back to me.

 

 

By the time we had boarded the pickup plane and flown back to Diego Garcia, Abby was sound asleep with her head in my lap. I had explained everything that I could to her on the way there, starting with the AllSpark and the attempted kidnapping, and then where I had spent that week away, what I had been doing, and why.

           Naturally Abby had quite a few questions to ask, starting with why the hell I hadn’t thought to just tell her the truth from the start. I did my best to answer each and every one of her questions, but, of course, there were many questions I couldn’t answer, not because I was trying to hide things from her, but because I simply didn’t know the answers myself.

           I kept thinking about Prowl during the flight. More than anything I found that I wanted him to be all right. When Abby finally fell quiet and she lay with her head on my lap, I was tempted to leave and go check up on him. But, just as quickly as the thought came, the darkness in my mind clouded back over and I found myself instead staring blankly at Abby’s sleeping face.

           She looked younger when she slept. Almost like she was a child again. I took in her ridiculous red hair sprawled about her head like a raging fire, the makeup that she was wearing, the snake tattoo on her arm. I still recalled the time when her hair was brown and her tanned skin was streaked with dirt from having been outside all day. I recalled the Abby that didn’t smoke or drink. The Abby whose name had always been Abigail to our grandparents, until the day she’d left home and decided to have everyone call her Abby. The Abby who would always say _shoot_ when she stubbed her toe instead of _shit_.

           I’d been so focused on my farm and myself these past few years that I hadn’t realized just how much our grandparents death had changed my sister. She wasn’t a person I really knew anymore. And yet, in some ways, I knew her better than I knew myself.

           Had I changed? I didn’t smoke or drink or swear that often, but had I changed in some other way? Did Abby see _me_ as a stranger more than she did a sister? Aside from these past few weeks when she had been at the farm, we barely had anything to do with each other. Once in awhile we text or phone each other. Perhaps meet up for a coffee in town. But our visits weren’t regular. And every time we met there was something different, something altered about her.

           We never spoke about what had happened. About her sudden departure after our grandparents death. I was permitted to speak about Astraea and Billy, but never about the house I lived in or the river where their ashes ran. Maybe both of us were just running from the same thing in different directions. Abby always had been wild compared to me. My grandparents had considered me more of a hermit.

          I pondered these things even as I sipped on the energon cube that Ratchet had given me before his holoform had fizzled out. The energon tasted like nothing to me, but even so I mechanically lifted the cube to my lips and drank, my blank eyes fixed on nothing.

           The plane touched down about a half hour later, and by then Abby had woken up, groggy from her nap. Ratchet drove down the ramp, out of the artificial lighting and into the sun, and it hit me then that I really was back on the island. I had only been gone for two days and yet it felt as though an entire month had passed.

           After letting us out in the main hanger, Ratchet immediately disappeared into the med bay after Prowl. I tried to follow him, but was held back by an apprentice medic named Jolt, who just shook his head sympathetically at me, before hurrying after the CMO. I noticed that a lot of the soldiers were staring at Abby and I, most likely wondering if she too was now a Cybertronian femme.

           Thankfully Major Lennox appeared right about then to take Abby to her room, after which I showed her mine. I even joined her for supper and sipped on my cube while she ate a plate of ‘mystery meat’—which looked totally disgusting—at a table with Lennox and Epps and a group of other soldiers.

           I noticed that by the end of the meal Abby was a lot calmer, laughing at some of the jokes the soldiers made, and even as we walked the halls back to our separate rooms barely blinking at the Autobots who walked past. I hoped that meant that she would fit in here. At the very least, it was a start.


	22. The Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that two chapters ago I initially referred to Abby's SUV as blue and then halfway through the referred to it as green. It is supposed to be blue. I will probably fix that at some point, but for now I'm just leaving this message here xP
> 
> R + R please! Thank you to everyone who has read and commented on the story so far!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I slept finally that night on my berth after having lay awake for hours. And when I did,_ I dreamed of home. Not the home in which I had killed Astraea, but the home I’d just left behind, empty and old, the memory of it more frightening than the experience of it had been. All night long, I dreamed of the things that could have happened but didn’t. Astraea having galloped fast enough the escape into the woods with us on her back. The Decepticons having grown frustrated when they couldn’t catch us, fleeing the scene before Prowl was badly injured. Astraea and Billy having been there in the pasture as I looked out the windows in Ratchet.

         I lay on my berth instead of joining Abby for breakfast the next morning. Abby came over anyway and let herself into my room, but when I did no more than stare at the wall during her visit—still in my bipedal form—she soon left. I continued to lie there even after she had gone, too numb to do anything else. Astraea was dead. Astraea was dead. Astraea was dead. I felt like a piece of me had died along with her. She and Billy had been my only comfort all those years I had lived alone. I got up and walked down the hallway to the main hanger to the trail that led to the beach.

           All morning, as I paced back and forth along the shoreline, then practising the various katas I knew, I thought about another thing that sucked about being a giant robot. Breakfast. Not that I hated drinking energon, but when I pictured the food and beverages that I no longer could consume as a Cybertronian I found myself silently cursing my tanks. I spent at least an hour in a half-melancholy, half-tortured reverie, fantasizing about cake and cheeseburgers, chocolate and bananas, pizza and salads, and, more than anything, about vanilla ice cream. This did not make sense. I was no longer human, so the fact that I was craving something that would make me sick if I tried to eat it was absurd. Yet it haunted me. Vanilla or strawberry, it didn’t matter. I just imagined a swirled cone in such vivid detail that I nearly began drooling.

           By the time noon rolled around I was feeling hungry and stopped to open up a cube of energon from my subspace. As I sipped on it, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and a moment later Skids and Mudflap with Abby sitting calmly on his shoulder rounded the bank. The twins cheered when they saw me, obviously having been looking for me. I was nervous about seeing Abby perched on the shoulder of a bot who I knew got into physical fights with his brother easily, but Mudflap seemed careful enough around her, just as he had been with Astraea that day we’d ridden up the mountain. I waved slightly as they stumbled up to me.

           “There you are,” said Abby when she was close enough. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” She scrunched up her nose. “I even enlisted the twins for help.”

           “I see that,” I said, amused. Then I turned apologetic. “Look, about earlier, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just ignored you like that.”

           She just shrugged. “You’re up now, at least. Plus I had a pretty good time with the soldiers so I can’t really complain.” She tapped Mudflap. “Hey, would you mind putting me down?” Once he did, I knelt down onto my knees and she walked over to me. “So this is what you look like now,” she said, looking up at me. “You’re fucking huge!”

           “Are you saying I’m fat?” I said, and laughed. As much as I’d thought I wanted to spend the day alone, I couldn’t help but feel a little delighted by Abby’s company, even though the last thing I had wanted was for her to get involved in this. “How are you doing?” I finally asked her.

           “I’m not the one who injured herself fighting giant alien robots.”

           I grimaced. “Gee, thanks for the reminder,” I said. Then I vented. “I mean, how are you doing with all of this?” I gestured around us and at Skids and Mudflap who were rolling around in the sand a few feet away. “You know, with the Cybertronians and being stuck on an island?”

           “It’s going to take some getting used to,” she admitted, but then her eyes lit up in childish excitement. “But I would be lying if I said that being around sentient alien robots who turn into kickass vehicles is not cool.” She leaned in. “And the soldier boys are _hot_!”

           I rolled my optics. Trust Abby to swoon at every guy she meets. Then I put my hand down flat in front of her. “Want a lift?” I asked, glancing at the Chevy twins who were still dishing it out. She hesitated only a moment before stepping on, and I lifted her as carefully as I knew how to my chest plates, sort of cradling her there.

           Lord, help me if I accidently dropped my own sister.

           Leaving the twins to their tussling, I carried Abby up the sandy bank towards the main hanger.

           “Where are we going?” she asked, sitting with her back against my chest.

           “Med bay,” I said, watching a group of training soldiers pretend to take down Ironhide in the hanger. “I promised Ratchet I would check in at some point today.” It was then I spotted the silver bot with wheels for feet from yesterday zip around the hallway corner. His optics brightened when he saw me, and he came over.

           “Hey, sweetspark!” the bot called, and he stopped in front of us. “Want to pull a prank?”

           I blinked, taken back. “Pull a prank? On who?”

           “On the Hatchet, of course!” he said cheerfully.

           “You mean Ratchet?” I said, tilting my head at him. He was taller than me by at least six feet, making him roughly around the same size as Ratchet. He told me his name was Sideswipe, and that the yellow bot I’d seen him with yesterday was his twin brother, Sunstreaker. As he we talked he rocked slightly back and forth on his wheels. He said he and his brother had been off the island on an over seas mission. Then he asked if I would be interested in pulling the prank with him.

           “But _I_ happen to like Ratchet,” I said, and his jaw dropped. It occurred to me that maybe he thought I meant _love_ not _like_ , and I thought it wise to quickly change the subject. “So where’s your brother at? Sunstreaker, was it?”

           He nodded, his optics still looking a bit glazed. “He’s back in our quarters. He’s trying to finish a painting that—”

           “You’re brother paints?” I interrupted eagerly. Even though I no longer did art myself, I still _loved_ to look at other people’s works. “Can I see?”

           He blinked at me. “Well, sure, if you really want to.” He started move off in the direction of the hallway with Abby and I in tow. “He usually doesn’t like bots seeing his paintings before they’re finished, but I don’t think he would mind letting you see some of his finished ones.” Then he winced, looking at Abby. “Sunny’s not much of a fan of humans though, so it might be best if you steer clear of him.”

           Sideswipe led us down the halls to where his quarters were located. He typed something in the keypad before the door opened, and he brought us inside. To say I was surprised to find that the ceiling and all the walls had been painted would be an understatement. It was a painting of a sunrise. And the entire room was the canvas, with the rippling colours spanning from one end of the room to the other.

           “This is amazing,” I said, spinning in place with Abby on my hand.

           The room closely resembled my own—minusing the sunrise—with two metal berths pushed closely together in the corner, a single couch in front of a mega-sized television, and multiple canvases tucked everywhere. Sunstreaker was sat on a stool painting a canvas on an Autobot-sized easel near the other end of the room, and he looked up when we came in, his expression quickly turning from neutral to that of a glare when he took in Abby and I.

           “Don’t touch anything,” he warned, and I shook my head with a smile.

           “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said. Then I looked at his canvas; I was unable to see what he was painting because of the position of the easel. “Would you mind if I came I bit closer to see what you’re working on though?”

           He narrowed his optics at me, but after a long moment, nodded his head. Still cradling Abby to my chest, I stepped over to him as carefully as I could, just in case he changed his mind.

           I paused in front of the painting, however. It was a picture of Sideswipe. And he stood as if heading into battle, looking at something just out of view. His armour was missing in a few places, exposing parts of his grey protoform, but he appeared undaunted; his swords drawn and ready. It was so realistic; in fact, it almost looked like I was looking at a digital image instead of painting.

           “Wow,” I said, not knowing what else to say. The painting was far beyond anything I had ever done.

           “Do you like it?” Sideswipe asked, and his brother glared at him. I nodded my head vigorously.

           “It’s extremely well rendered,” I said, after taking in the detail. “I used to paint myself, but never anything as well done as this.”

           “ _You_ used to paint?” Sunstreaker sneered, and I nodded.

           “All the time. I was really into realism, but this—” I gestured around me at the walls and ceiling and then back at the painting. “—is more than I could ever do.” I paused then. “Do you have anything else I could look at?”

           Sunstreaker blinked, before standing and pulling out a datapad. It turned out that it contained pictures of all his artworks. I really enjoyed scrolling through the pictures, asking him questions on various painted hologram artworks, and, after few minutes, he put down his paintbrush and seemed to devote his attention entirely on my questions. Every now and then Abby would intervene with a question of her own—I’d nearly forgotten about her in my enthusiasm over seeing such stupendous paintings—and Sunstreaker would answer her without bearing his prior expression of animosity, seemingly having forgotten that she was human while discussing his art.

           “Do you think you could do a painting of me?” I asked him after a while, and his optics brightened even if his face didn’t.

           “Sure, I mean, if you don’t mind modeling for me,” he said. When I assured him that I didn’t, he went and retrieved another datapad. “We could start now then.”

           I started to nod my head only to stop when I remembered my promise to stop by the med bay. “Actually, I can’t—I have a check up scheduled at the med bay.” Both bots grimaced.

           “Have fun with _that_ ,” Sideswipe said, rubbing the back of his head. “Watch out you don’t get wrenched. I think I still have a dent in the back of my helm from the last time I was in there.”

           “But Ratchet is always such a sweetheart to me!” I said innocently. Both bots looked at me like I’d sprouted another head, and I laughed. I knew, of course, that Ratchet was notorious for throwing wrenches at the heads of bots who got under his plating. I had even seen him whip a wrench at Ironhide once for having managed to reinjure himself twice in the same day. “What if I dropped by tomorrow to model?” I asked Sunstreaker.

           He nodded. “That works. I’ll let you know if anything changes though.”

           “Let me walk you to the med bay,” Sideswipe said to me as I turned to leave. I smiled and nodded. Together we walked—or, in his case, rolled—side by side down the hallway to where the med bay was located. We stopped outside the door. “Hey, I can take Abby with me if you prefer?” he asked. When I blinked at him, he balked. “I mean, she just arrived, right? I wouldn’t mind showing her around base while you’re in there with the Hatchet.”

           I looked down at Abby in a silent question. She was looking up at him with an unreadable expression on her face, but after a moment she smirked. “If Skater Boy thinks he can handle me, sure.”

           I gave her a look. “You just hate doctors.”

           “I do not!”

           I rolled my optics before handing her over to Sideswipe’s awaiting hand.

           I waved goodbye to them, opened the door, and walked into the med bay. As soon as I entered I looked around for Prowl, but all the berths were empty. Ratchet walked over from one of the back rooms.

            “I am keeping Prowl in one of the isolated rooms for the time being,” he said as I opened my mouth. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if I could see him—and I think Ratchet could sense that, because he vented, before leading me to the room he had just emerged out of.

           I stepped into the room slowly. Inside Prowl was laying a medical berth on his back with his wings sticking out a large hole in the back. He appeared to be on a blue energon drip, and was hooked up to another machine I didn’t know the name of but seemed to monitor his spark pulse. He was unconscious.

           “This is the only berth I currently possess that allows Prowl to lie on his back with no discomfort,” Ratchet explained at my questioning look. Then he vented and shook his head. “Just as well I suppose. The blast just missed his spark chamber. I’ve had to completely rebuild his side using earth materials due to not having any of our own.” I looked and saw that his side was now grey where it used to be white. It was patched, but still looked painful. I resisted the urge to reach out and run my fingers across the seams where white and grey clashed.

           “Can I stay with him?” I asked quietly.

           Ratchet regarded me for a long moment, before nodding. “You may. I will be in the other room if you need me.”

           When he left, I looked down at Prowl on the berth. He looked younger than he did when he was awake. It hit me then that he _was_ young, far younger than Optimus or Ratchet, young in the sense that if I had to guess we would probably be only a few years older than me were he human. I took in the contours of his face and wondered what it was that had made him so frigid. Was it the war that had made him jaded? I recalled how wonderful he had looked when he had smiled, even if it had only been a slight one. He was handsome, I realized.

           I grabbed onto his hand and stood for a long time just holding it, too staggered with emotion to do anything more than stare at the details on his face.


	23. Night Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!  
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_The room was dark. I lay awake on my berth. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep, not with_ the things running through my processor, not with the dreams I’d been having lately containing my grandparents and Astraea.

           It had been three days since Abby and I had arrived on the island. I spent most of my time down at the beach, while Abby tended to hang around with a soldier that she had hit off with and Sideswipe. To say that I was surprised to learn that Abby got along with Sideswipe would be an understatement. I just hadn’t expected it. Lately I had been visiting Sunstreaker every day to model. He had even let me borrow some datapads to read on Cybertronian art. I accepted everything he gave me with open arms, more than happy to have something to read at night and during the long hours of the day, to keep me from remembering the things I was desperately trying hard to forget.

           I lay in the darkness, thinking about my grandmother. In the dreams I had of her I was always with her when she died. It was me who was driving the yellow little VW Beetle. Again and again and again. I found myself sitting in the driver seat of the car, and each time I would lose control on the icy road and we would spin into the opposite lane of traffic. Each time the dream began I would get down onto my knees and cry, begging her to let us stay in town, but she would not relent, and each time, I ultimately complied. I got into the Beetle and we drove into the country, heading for home. These dreams were not surreal. They took place in plain, ordinary light, with snow floating softly down. They were the films of my subconscious and felt as real to me as life. Her Beetle was really her Beetle; the roads were the same ones I took into town. Nothing I did seemed to wash these dreams of her away. Nothing—

           I pushed the memory of the dream out of my head but it returned and I had to push it away again. Finally I rose and, opening my door, stepped into the hallway as quietly as I knew how towards the main hanger. I headed outside and stood gazing up at the stars. Away from my room, sobered by the cool air, I wondered about my dreams. Had my grandmother dreamt of her parents after they had died? Where had she gone after she died? Where was Astraea? Had they gone to heaven or the well of sparks? Reason told me that all they had done was die, though they had both come to me repeatedly in my dreams. The Astraea dreams were the opposite of those I’d had about my grandmother—the ones in which I drove us to her death over and over again. In the dreams of Astraea, I didn’t have to drive her anywhere. I had only to run out of the house to the pasture where she would be standing, waiting for me with a fantastically colourful bouquet of flowers in her mouth. She would nudge me with her nose until I accepted it, and in that offering, I knew I was forgiven. But was I? Had she really forgiven me for having gotten her killed or was it just my subconscious working it out?

           I pondered this as I hiked down the sandy trail to the beach, my gaze glued to the stars as I went. Something white flashed in the bottom of my vision, and I looked down, surprised to find Prowl standing a little ways further on the beach. He turned to face me as I made my way over to him. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

           His wing twitched. “I could ask you the same thing,” he said, looking at me.

           “I couldn’t sleep,” I said. Then I paused, taking in the grey patch on his side. I hadn’t dropped by the med bay since my last examination with Ratchet three days ago—not for a lack of wanting on my part, I had just been afraid of seeing Prowl if he was awake. A part of me had thought that maybe he wouldn’t want to see me, since it was my fault that he was injured. But standing here now in front of him, I realized just how ridiculous my thinking had been.

           “Shouldn’t you be in med bay?” I asked, stepping closer. I was worried about him straining himself from overdoing it when he was technically still supposed to be bedridden. I lifted my hand without thinking and gently ran it across the seam of his injury, only for him to grab my wrist. I looked up and met his blue optics, so bright in the darkness. “I’m glad that you’re okay,” I said quietly.

           He didn’t say anything, his silence conveying both skepticism and faith. Then he looked down at my weakened wrist he was still holding and examined it gently in his hand. “I’m sorry about what happened to Astraea,” he said finally, letting go of my wrist.

           “It was my fault,” I said, smiling the way I did when I was uncomfortable. My wrist burned from where he had held it, and part of me wished he would touch me again. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from reaching out to him and tilted back my head to gaze up at the sky. “It’s a beautiful night,” I said, staring at a star.

           “It is,” Prowl agreed.

           We stood like that for few minutes, each silently looking up the star-filled sky above us. Eventually Prowl turned to continue walking along the shoreline, his wing twirling in a silent invitation, and I followed. I was thinking a lot about Cybertron, how terrible it must be for Autobots to be away from not only their homes but also their planet, and that made me think of Praxus. “Can I ask you about Praxus?”

           “You may,” he answered without looking at me.

           I suddenly found that I wanted to know everything about the city, including its fate. “What happened?” I asked.

            He was silent for so long it almost seemed as if he wasn’t going to answer. He looked up at the starry sky. “The Decepticons devastated the city in the early phases of the war.”

           “Oh, Prowl,” I said. “That’s . . .” I didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t looking at me, and it felt invasive of me to look at him. His wings drooped slightly, but his face still appeared devoid of any emotion.

           “Only a handful of Praxians survived,” he said. I understood then why it was I hadn’t seen any other Autobots with doorwings. He was one of the last.

           “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m really sorry.”

           He didn’t say anything, just continued to look up at the stars. Without thinking I reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. I thought he might take his hand away, but after a moment, he squeezed lightly back. It was quiet for a moment, and then I asked, “Do Cybertronians dream?” He said no. I was understandably shocked by this considering I dreamt every night.

           After a while he said, “What do you dream about?”

           “Me?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “What makes you think that I dream?”

           “You would not have asked otherwise.”

           “True. I dream about my grandmother mostly. Lately I’ve been having a dream about Astraea.” I said this nonchalantly so that he wouldn’t think it was a big deal to me. But he squeezed my hand again, surprising me.

           “What became of your goat?” he asked quietly.

           “I gave him to my neighbour to look after.” I shrugged. “It was the most logical thing to do considering I wasn’t going to be there to look after him.”

           “I’m sorry,” he said again, looking at me. But I just shook my head and smiled.

           “I wouldn’t have been able to keep him anyways,” I said. “Not with me being away from home and all.” I sighed then. “I just wish I had grabbed _Jane Eyre_ so I had something to read.”

           “ _Jane Eyre_?” His optics went dim for a moment and I knew he was looking it up on the web. I waited for his optics to brighten again before nodding.

           “It’s my favourite book,” I said. “I’ve probably read it like a thousand times.”

           “Literally?”

           “No, metaphorically,” I said, and he smiled as I laughed.

           The water lapped quietly at the shore next to us; it was dark and yet somehow I could make out the details on his face perfectly. An odd warmth buzzed in my chest as I walked next to him, holding his hand, but I didn’t stop to contemplate it as we strolled leisurely along. In that moment I was just so thankful that he was alive and here with me, not spread out over the small stream back at my farm, or being torn apart by coyotes.

           The last thought made me flinch.

           “Is something wrong?” Prowl asked me. I realized then that I had stopped and was staring unseeingly at the far ocean. The moon peaked in the distance, reflecting off the surface of the dark water.

           “Does it ever get easier?” I asked, without looking at him. Part of me screamed that of course it didn’t. That nothing did. Nothing ever would. But when I looked at him, another, smaller part of me, whispered that it already was.

           He said nothing, but squeezed my hand again.

 

 

We walked along the shoreline for another hour, before making our way back to the main hanger. I was so tired by then I could hardly keep my optics open, and Prowl ended up carrying me bridle style to my room. I put my hand on his chest before he went inside though, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

           I didn’t want to spend the night alone in my empty room. But I didn’t know how to break this to him without coming across as pathetic or creepy, so I ended up just wordlessly staring up at him as he stared at me. I’m sure if anybody had walked by right at that moment we would’ve made for a weird sight, with the two of us just silently staring at each other as he held me in his arms. The thought made me laugh, and Prowl’s expression melted into confusion when I didn’t stop, his expression just making me laugh harder.

           “Could I spend the night with you?” I asked once I’d regained my composure. Prowl stared at me. He opened his mouth and then he closed it, and it occurred to me then just what it was I had asked and how my words might be misconstrued. My face felt suddenly hot. I realized then that I had no idea how Cybertronians mated or anything for that matter. Then I wondered why I was even pondering the topic while Prowl was holding me. I almost banged my head against his chest at the thought of it. “No, I meant, can I just stay with you?” I asked meekly, afraid of his answer.

           “I do not think it would be appropriate—”

           “Please,” I begged. “It can just be in the same room if you plan on getting some work done.” I gave him my best puppy-dog-eyes I could muster, immediately feeling stupid for doing so. This was Prowl we were talking about. I seriously doubted such an expression would even have an effect on him.

           Prowl stared at me for an uncomfortably long time. Finally, his wings dropped slightly and I knew he had relented. “Do not make this a habit,” he said as he turned to continue on down the hallway. He narrowed his optics and I vigorously nodded, internally jumping up and down in glee.

          Prowl carried me to another room near the end of the hallway, before shifting his hold on me to type something on the keyboard. The door slid open, revealing a room that looked similar to mine in the sense that it was barren of almost anything except a medium-sized desk and a metal berth. His desk, of course, was piled high with a mountain of datapads, most likely from his work office. He set me down on the berth, before walking over to the desk and sitting down on the stool that rested in front of it. I watched him work for a few minutes, taking in the bland room, before lying down on my side facing him, still watching him. It soothed me somehow, being near him, even if we weren’t physically touching.

           I must have eventually drifted off, because a moment later I woke with a jerk. I was bewildered and checked my internal chronometer to find that I had been asleep for an hour—Prowl was still typing away on his datapads.

           I stared at him for a few seconds, before quietly getting up and walking over to him. His wing twitched as I approached, but he seemed absorbed by the datapad he was reading. I peeked over his shoulder and saw a bunch of Cybertronian glyphs that I surely didn’t understand despite being Cybertronian myself. It occurred to me then that I had no idea how to even _speak_ the language let alone _read_ it, and I made a mental note to ask Ratchet about it in the morning. Later, I told myself. I directed my attention onto Prowl.

           As if he could sense my staring at him, he raised his head and narrowed his optics at me. “Shouldn’t you be recharging,” he said, setting down his datapad while he looked at me.

           I raised an optic-ridge at him. “I could say the same thing to you,” I said. Then I shook my head, half tempted to just drag him to bed so that I could go back to sleep. “Nevermind, just, come to bed please.”

           I took a hold of his hand and tried to pull him off his seat. I _must_ have been tired; otherwise I never would have even attempted to do something so brazen with Prowl. In fact, once I realized what it was I was doing and to who, my optics widened and I dropped his hand like I had been burned. “God, I am sorry!” I said, recognizing my mistake for what it was.

           Prowl only stared at me with his jaw slightly slackened, and I feared that I had crossed too far over the line this time. But then, much to my surprise, he stood up—rubbing his hand like I really _had_ burned him—and tilted his head at me. I quickly realized that he was waiting to see if I still planned to spend the night, and headed over to where his berth was located near the corner and lay down on my side. When he did no more than stare at me, I patted the space next to me.

           “I don’t bite, I promise,” I said, amused despite the sudden awkwardness I had created between us. The situation was utterly ridiculous, from me acting way out of line with the SIC, to the way I’d chosen to sleep beside him rather than just leave. My tired brain was tired.

           Wordlessly Prowl approached the berth and lay down on his side facing me. I rolled over so that I wouldn’t make things more awkward by staring at him while he slept. After a few minutes my spark rate slowed down though, and I was able to shut my optics. It was pleasant, I realized, to lay with a body beside me. His spark gave off a gentle hum that was soothing to listen to. I no longer ached with loneliness as I lay there, basking in the warmth behind me. Within moments I was asleep.


	24. Rising Late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_It was long after noon when I drew up to wakefulness; and I onlined my optics directly_ into the white of the wall inches away from my face and realized that I was not in my room. I blinked and lay there, my legs still sprawled in the running position on the metal berth, thinking how last night had been the first night since that time back at my farm when I’d fallen asleep in Prowl that I’d had no dreams.

           At last I sat up against the wall. My optics wandered, taking in everything with an absent, unconscious look.

           Prowl was gone, that much was clear. The spot next to me was empty, barren of any body. I pressed my hand against the metal and felt that it was cool to touch. He had been gone for some time, then. Probably to his office, I thought. He took the datapads with him too. Or at least, some of them. I could see that the stack was a bit smaller. I hoped I hadn’t made things awkward between us.

           I sat, looking around the bland room that reminded me so much of my own. I don’t know what it was I was expecting. But the twin’s room had been so full of their own memorabilia compared to this. I suppose I had expected the same for Prowl. He was a few hundred thousand years old, after all. I wondered briefly what his life had been like before Praxus had been destroyed. He had been an Enforcer, I knew that much, but what was life in the city like exactly? Were his parents alive up until when the bombs had dropped? Did he have any siblings? Friends? He seemed to hold such a love in spark for Praxus—just what was it that he loved about the city so much—aside from the gardens?

           I shook my head to dispel the thoughts. I opened up my subspace and reached in for an energon cube only to realize that I had used all them up. Guess I’d have to collect more from the rec room then. I got up and started to walk to the door, but the sight of a hologram projector, similar to the ones the twin’s had sitting on a table in their room, stopped me. It was sitting on the back of his desk, tucked behind a pile of datapads. It would be wrong to peek, I knew. Still, I couldn’t deny my curiosity.

           I walked over and stood in front of the desk. It was none of my business, but I wondered why it was just sitting there, inactivated. The twin’s projector had been of a picture of them both together and it had been activated every time I went to their room. Without waiting to think better of it, I reached out with my hand and turned it on. A hologram of Prowl and another shorter bot immediately sprung to life. I picked it up and brought it closer to face. The silver bot wore a visor so it was impossible to see the upper part of his face, but he was grinning, that much I could see, and had his arm slung around Prowl. I blinked when I realized that Prowl was also smiling albeit less than the silver bot; he looked the happiest I’d ever seen him. I also noticed that his frame looked a bit different, though he still bore the same white and black paint job—this was obviously taken back on Cybertron.

           I put the projector back and turned it off. I had never seen the bot Prowl was next to around base, but judging by their expressions this was someone Prowl was obviously close to. I wondered briefly if it was his brother, except that the silver bot hadn’t had any doorwings. He wasn’t Praxian.

           So who was he? I wondered.

           I ran my fingers over the circular projector before taking my hand away and heading for the door. The last thing I wanted was to get caught rummaging through Prowl’s things without his permission. Besides, I needed to refuel. It was then that I also remembered that I needed to see Ratchet about the language barrier.

           I peeked my head out, checking to make sure that no bots were in the hallway, before stepping out of the room and walking briskly towards the rec room. The rec room was thankfully deserted when I arrived and I rushed in to stock up on some energon cubes, piling them neatly in my subspace, leaving one out to sip on while I walked to the med bay. Seeing as no one was around, I started to hum and soon that humming morphed into quiet singing. “You’re something special. You’ve got to shout it out. If there are doubts then we will groove it out.”

           It was because of this singing that I almost collided with Ratchet, having failed to absorb that I had reached my destination. I jumped, nearly spilling my energon on myself. Ratchet looked for all purposes startled as well, before his expression shifted into his usual grouch face. He grabbed my arm to steady me, letting go once I smiled to inform him that I was no longer in the danger of falling ass-over-teakettle.

           “There you are,” Ratchet said, tilting his head. “Your sister was in here earlier asking for you.”

          I grimaced. Yet again I had forgotten about Abby. If there was such a thing as a worst sister of the year award, I had definitely earned it. “Was she with anyone?” I asked, hoping that she hadn’t been wandering the base looking for me alone.

            “As a matter of fact, yes. She was with another soldier.”

           Probably that soldier boy she had hit it off with, I thought to myself. Out loud, I asked, “Ratchet, is there anyway I could learn to speak Cybertronian?”

           Ratchet rubbed his chin. “Well, that depends,” he replied. “What dialect were you thinking you wanted to learn?”

           “There’s more than one dialect?” I said dumbfounded, and he nodded.

           “Many. However, if you were referring to our most commonly used language, Neocybex—a language that was spoken by almost all back on Cybertron—then the answer to your question would be yes, it is possible.”

           “Neocybex sounds fine,” I said, after thinking about it—I wondered if Prowl’s native tongue differed from the rest of the Autobots. I knew for certain that he spoke Neocybex since I’d overheard him conversing with Optimus in a series of whirrs and clicks. I wondered—

           “In that case, I have some data-packets I can give you,” Ratchet said. “They will take some time to fully integrate into your systems, however—”

           “What about Prowl’s dialect? Is there any way I could learn to speak it?”

            “You mean Praxian?” he said. I nodded. “Unfortunately I do not have any data-packets containing the translation program.”

           My hopes fell. “Why not?”

           “Well it is a very old language. And seeing as the species that primarily spoke the dialect was almost entirely wiped out at the start of the war, translators are few and hard to come by.” At my crestfallen expression, he vented. “But I suppose if you are that eager to learn it, you could always ask Prowl to write a translation program for you.”

           “Yeah,” I said, already piecing together how I would ask him.

          “In the meantime, however, I have a Neocybex data-packet I can administer to you if you are still interested,” Ratchet offered, and I smiled and nodded my head at him. Half an hour later, I was laying on my back on one of the berths digesting the new information that had been downloaded into my systems via the data port on my wrist. The information had been easy enough to download, but the actual translating that was taking place in the back of processor was taking _forever_. I still had no idea if I was even going to be able to pronounce the words that had been downloaded into me, or if that was going to have to be taught to me. But my fingers were crossed for the former.

           When the program finally reached one hundred percent in my vision, I said to Ratchet, “Okay, I’m good to go, I think.”

           “Very well,” he said. “Are you are ready to proceed or do you still need some time to recover?”

           “I’m ready,” I said, with more confidence than I felt. A telltale tingling coursed through me then, and Ratchet nodded.

           “ _My scans indicate that your systems are functioning normally.”_

“Wow,” I said, realizing that while a part of me still heard only a collection of vowel-intensive electronic noises and clicks, another part of me understood exactly what had been said. I wondered if I could speak it myself.

           “I take it that the translation program was a success?” he asked, raising one of his optic-ridges.

           “Yeah,” I said, still in shock. “ _Do you think I could learn to speak it as well—Oh my God, I already am.”_ To say that I was amazed when the words just came tumbling out of mouth like I had been speaking their language my entire life would have been an understatement. I could hardly believe my ears. “ _Is it always this easy for you bots to learn a new language?”_

           “We _are_ an incredibly advanced race.” He shot me a dry look. “So yes, it is. In fact it is usually easier, but in your case I was worried about straining your systems. I still have a few more data-packets to give you in relation to the language, but for the time being you will find that you are able to understand the bulk of it.”

           “Well, I am duly impressed,” I said in English. I pushed myself up into a sitting position with my legs hanging off the side of the berth. As soon as I did he passed me back my energon cube, and it was then that I remembered what time it was and that Abby had been looking for me. I also needed to talk to Prowl.

           Finishing the rest of my energon, I bid goodbye to Ratchet after thanking him for his time, and hurried out to look for Abby.

           “Jane!” a woman called, and I turned. It was Abby, perched on the shoulder of Sideswipe as he appeared from around the corner. “Where the hell have you been?” she asked.

           “I got side tracked,” I replied. I waited for Sideswipe to roll up to me to extend my hand for Abby, holding my other hand around her in case she fell as she stepped rather nonchalantly off his shoulder onto my palm. She raised an eyebrow at me in a look that demanded an explanation for my absence, but I merely shook my head and glanced at Sideswipe who was also looking at me with interest.

           What I needed was a diversion. I tried hard to think of something to say that I know for certain would distract them from the current subject we were on. Then I smiled as an idea came to me. “Want to have some fun?”

             Sideswipe immediately straightened, while Abby narrowed her eyes at me in suspicion. “What kind of fun?” she asked.

           “Jeez, Abbs, with that look you would think I had just suggested we rob a bank or something,” I said, rolling my optics. “I just meant along the lines of pulling a little prank.”

           “You hate pranks,” Abby said, her expression purposely blasé.

           “No, I hate _mean_ pranks,” I said somewhat defensively. “There is a difference, you know.”

           Abby rolled her eyes. “Right. Who were you planning on pranking then?”

           “Ironhide.”

           “Are you crazy?” Abby said, though her eyes sharpened with excitement.

           I shrugged. “It was between him or Optimus.” Then I grinned. “So, are you in or out?”

           “Like I would pass up the opportunity for a good prank,” Abby said. She shook her head. “But if we get caught, I’m blaming you for the whole thing.”

           “Gee, how very sisterly of you,” I said, and she laughed. I turned to Sideswipe, who was watching us with brightened optics. “What about you?” I asked him, both hoping and knowing that he would say yes.

           “When do we start?" he asked.


	25. The Prank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_Abby had this big idea of repainting Ironhide pink while he was recharging, but I had a_ better idea. He still needed to be recharging in order for the plan to work, but what I had planned involved more than just a new coat of paint. I outlined the plan to Abby and Sideswipe, watching as their faces lit up in incredulous expressions, before we each departed to retrieve the necessary goods.

           After Abby and I had picked up the white paint, amongst a couple other things, we made our way back to the main hanger where we waited for Sideswipe to give us the ‘go ahead’ signal—meaning that Ironhide was, in fact, recharging. True to form, I saw that Ironhide was indeed recharging in his truck form while humans that were milling about kept a wide, quiet berth around him. Neither Prowl nor Optimus were anywhere in sight, thankfully, and I exchanged a grin with Abby, before we casually wandered over.

         We were intercepted halfway there by Will, however, who came over looking suspicious.

           “What are you two doing?” He eyed the paint cans warily.

           “Nothing much,” I said innocently. “Just thought we would give Ironhide over there a touch up on his paint job.” I nudged Abby and she nodded, both of us looking as mischief-free as possible.

           Epps who had snuck up alongside Will snorted at us, obviously not believing a single word out of my mouth, before grinning broadly. “You better be careful. I like a good prank as well as anybody, but I also like continuing to live.”

           “Don’t worry. We have an infallible plan setup in the case that he comes after us,” I said, and they looked at me like I was both incredibly brave and stupid. I didn’t blame them. By pulling a prank on Ironhide of all bots I _was_ sort of playing a game of Russian roulette. An incredibly _dangerous_ game of Russian roulette.

           When neither soldier made any move to stop us, Abby and I continued on our way to where Ironhide was recharging. I paused in front of him, looking over his still form. The Topkick certainly was bigger up close than it appeared from far away, and I realized that the sooner we got started on painting it the better. The absolute last thing I wanted was for him to wake up before we were finished. I put the white paint can I was carrying down, and carefully pried the lid off. Then I ran my fingers across the hood of the truck to see if there was even a minor shudder. No movement and no voice. Grinning at Abby, I dipped the brush into the paint, and she did the same, and we got to work painting over the black.

           I don’t know how long we worked, but at one point holoform Sideswipe and Sunstreaker—both blonde haired and blue-eyed—appeared and took over for me as I worked on constructing the bunny ears and tail. For the tail, I stuffed a thick wad of toilet paper into the bottom part of a white sock and then cut and tied off the top of it, leaving a round little ball. While for each ear, I took two more pairs of white socks and shoved pieces of cardboard—cut to resemble rabbit ears—into them, stapling shut the bottom. And finally, for the nose, I opened up the can of pink paint and had Sunstreaker paint it directly onto the front of the truck that was now white.

           It took us all probably a couple of hours to finish painting and for the glue to dry. But by the time we were done, Ironhide was a new truck. Complete with a set of bunny ears and a cute little tail to match. I thought he looked marvellous.

           Passing soldiers stopped and stared, some pointing, others snickering. But his new paint job also attracted the attention of the other bots, such as the Chevy twins who were laughing their asses off in the far corner, smart enough to keep their distance but unfortunately not smart enough to keep quiet about it. There was the rumble of the truck engine then, and Abby and I nearly skidded away from the truck, grinning, and behind Epps, who was taking a picture of the truck with his phone. Some of the braver humans outright laughed when Ironhide finally did awaken and transform, showcasing his now white armour, along with the pink rabbit nose on his chest. The bunny ears and tail unfortunately fell off during his transformation, but hey, considering that everyone had already seen him with them on, it still made for a pretty funny prank. Even Optimus smiled when he walked in from the hallway.

           “What’s so funny?” Ironhide asked gruffly; and I held my breath as he glanced around at everyone, before looking down at himself. His optics widened in surprise, and I couldn’t help but finally laugh at his dumbstruck expression. He blinked at the sight of the rabbit nose on his chest, stared blankly at the tatters on the floor by his feet, before his expression quickly shifted into anger. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together, especially considering Abby and I had splatters of white paint on our bodies, and he fixed us with a dark glare, his cannons whirring to life.

           Oh shit.

           Still laughing, I transformed up into my bipedal form and grabbed Abby, who, for all intents and purposes, looked like she was about to give herself a hernia: she was bent over laughing so hard. I bolted with her in my arms—watching as amused soldiers rushed to get out of the way—into the hallway where I ran as fast as I dared over and around scrambling humans to Prowl’s office.

           I banged on the door wildly, praying all the while that Prowl was indeed there lest we be screwed. It opened after only a moment and I darted in, shutting the door almost in Ironhide’s face as he was nearly upon us, before hurrying around Prowl to hide under his desk. Ironhide pounded angrily on the door, but thankfully Prowl did not let _him_ in. He must’ve taken the cue from Abby and I.

           As he walked over to where we were still parked beneath his desk, he raised an optic-ridge—somehow I just _knew_ without even seeing him—and said, “Do I even want to know?” Abby snickered, and when he squatted down in front of us, he gave us a look that suggested he knew we were up to no good. I tried to appear innocent, but he only narrowed his optics even further.

           “Okay, okay. We _may_ have given Ironhide just the _tiniest_ touch up on his paint job.” His expression didn’t change. “Alright, we painted him white with a rabbit nose on the front of him and super-glued a pair of bunny ears and a tail to match. Only the ears and tail were sort of ripped to shreds when he transformed.” I grimaced. “And now he’s kind of chasing us around base.”

           Abby snickered again. “That’s putting it lightly.”

           “Okay, rephrase: he totally wants to murder our asses.”

           Prowl looked unimpressed. Finally he said, “I thought you would have more sense than to pull a prank on Ironhide.” Then he stood back up and took a seat in his spinning chair. Ironhide was still banging on the door, so Abby and I stayed put. No way in hell were we going out there with Mr. Arm Cannons on the loose. He hit the door so hard I thought surely it was going to break, regardless of whether the thing was made of metal or not. Thankfully though, after a few minutes of Prowl ignoring him and us not coming out, the pounding stopped and we heard his heavy footsteps disappear down the hallway. As soon as it did I released a gush of air I didn’t realize that I’d been holding. It was then that I recalled that I had a question that I’d wanted to ask Prowl, and I peeked at him from under the desk. “Can I ask you something?” I asked him.

           “You may,” he answered, without looking at me.

           “Do you think you could write a Praxian translation program for me?”

           He stopped typing. “You want to speak Praxian?” he asked, looking down with something akin to interest. I nodded, and Abby looked up at me in confusion.

           “Praxian?” she said, one eyebrow raised.

           “His native language,” I explained, watching as first understanding flooded her gaze and then excitement.

           “You can speak Cybertronian?” she said.

           “Neocybex, actually,” I said. “But yeah, I can.” Just to demonstrate my ability I quickly spoke a few words to her in Cybertronian, enjoying the way her eyes lit up.

           “That is so fucking cool,” she half whispered.

           I smiled at her, before turning back to face Prowl, a silent question on my face. He studied me seriously for a long moment, obviously uncertain of whether I was sincere about wanting to learn or not. Finally, he nodded. “If you certain you want to learn how to speak it—“

           “I am,” I said immediately, and he nodded again. I was so happy I could have hugged him right then and there. I’m not sure why I wanted to learn the language so badly. Perhaps it had to do with the knowledge that it was a dying language, or with the fact that it was Prowl’s native tongue. Either way, I could hardly wait for him to have the program written. I wondered what—

           “Hey Prowl-bot, say something sexy in Praxian!” Abby called up then, causing me to choke on nothing, and Prowl’s engine to temporarily stutter. He narrowed his optics at Abby in a silent reprimand, before seeming to think it over for a moment, and then—to my great surprise—actually saying a quiet sentence in what I assumed was Praxian. All I could do was stare. It was by far the most beautiful language I had even heard, even if I didn’t understand a word of it. It was somewhat higher pitched sounding than Neocybex, with an almost musical ring to it. I wanted more than ever to learn how to speak it, though something told me I would never be able to copy his melodious accent. All at once I felt saddened by the fact that such a beautiful dialect was fading into oblivion.

           After a while I said, “What did you say?”

           He didn’t say anything for a moment, and then he said, “Your optics shimmer like stars on a quiet night.” He said it so quietly, it almost sounded as though he was half whispering like Abby had done earlier.

          I felt my face redden, and I looked away, suddenly bashful about my optics. I noticed that Abby had gone eerily silent, and I turned my attention down to her to find that she was watching us with a little smirk. I shot her a look, but she pretended to examine her nails. Finally she flicked back her fiery hair.

           “Should we go see if Fluffy Buns is still out there looking for us?” she asked.

           I blinked. “Fluffy Buns?”

           “Well we dressed him up as a rabbit, didn’t we?”

            For some reason I pictured Ironhide in a bunny suit, and I snorted, bursting up into giggles, as I imagined him trying to look all intimidating and whatnot while he waved around a carrot instead of his cannons. Primus! If only I could actually get away with a prank like _that_! That would be one for the photo album!

           It took me a long time to sober, and by the time I did both Abby and Prowl were giving me odd looks—well Abby was, Prowl was more or less just staring at me. Either way, it cracked me up, and soon I was laughing all over again.

           “Oh for fuck’s sake, Janie,” Abby said. “Will you please tell me what the hell is so funny?” I struggled to verbalize my random thought, and her eyes went so wide I was surprised they didn’t fall out. Soon we were both laughing our heads off, before a clang sounded beside us, startling us both. I turned, shocked to find Prowl on the ground with smoke coming out of his head.

           Ratchet was less than impressed when a few minutes later I appeared in the med bay dragging Prowl’s unconscious frame. I was half laughing, half freaking out so badly that it was minutes before I was able to even explain what had happened, and when I finally did, I nearly pulled a Prowl and passed out right then and there.

           Ratchet smiled.


	26. Not A Warrior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place a couple of days after the prank incident. Sorry for not making that clear in this chapter, but it wasn't until after I was finished it that I realized that I'd forgotten to include that. Oops
> 
> Also, apologies for the short chapter, but I can never guarantee the length as it changes depending on what occurs in each chapter.
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I’d done a lot of dumb and dangerous things in my life, but willingly charging headfirst_ into a battle against Decepticons was not yet one of them. Only horrible things had happened in all the battles I’d been involved in so far—Astraea’s death being one of them—and the fact that I had little training in the act of warfare only amplified the list of reasons why I should steer clear of any and all battles involving Decepticons. But I knew I could not allow such thoughts to distract me. Unless I wanted to spend the rest of my days cooped up on base, I needed to learn to defend myself.

           Plus, fighting Decepticons was simply what Autobots _did_ unless they worked as medics. Hell, even Ratchet fought in battles. And I was an Autobot, right? _Right_?

           Right.

           Besides I had more than myself to think about: I had the AllSpark and Abby to consider. On some occasions I was bound to come across the Decepticons. And then where would I be? Learning how to fight in a battle was the only practical solution when it came to being able to protect those I care about and myself.

           I stood in the main hanger as dozens of surrounding soldiers and bots dashed back and forth, pleading my case to Prowl, hoping that by listing some of the reasons of why he should allow me to partake in the battle he would grant me permission. The thought of engaging a con in battle still scared the shit out of me, but I did my best to come across as brave sounding rather than the youngling every bot seemed to regard me as. Even Abby had thrown a fit upon hearing of desire to participate in the upcoming mission, but at least she had understood.

            “You are not a warrior.”

           “And I never will be unless you allow me a chance to fight,” I whipped back at him. “How am I supposed to improve, if you won’t give me the chance?”

           “By advancing in your training here,” he said, his expression unreadable as he glanced at the datapad he held.

           “And what if some Decepticons spring an attack on us?” I replied angrily. I was starting to lose my temper, which didn’t happen very often. “That was the reason we each got hurt last time: because they caught us off guard, and I didn’t know how to protect myself.”

           “You still don’t.”

           “I’ve been training with Ironhide.” And that was true. “If that hasn’t taught me anything, then what good am I? I can’t just hang around base for the rest of my life. I need to learn how to fight in actual battles, protect myself, and be helpful.” I was still nervous about how I would react once I actually did find myself in the middle of a battlefield, but I had to do what needed to be done. I needed to face my demons that were plaguing my dreams, instead of just running away.

           Prowl narrowed his optics. “I am not forbidding you from leaving base for the rest of your life, I am merely denying your request to partake in this mission, which requires more experience than you currently have.”

           “And just how exactly _am_ I supposed to acquire experience unless I fight?” My own optics were narrowed into angry slits. I was furious with Prowl for stopping me from fighting, but most of all I was furious with myself for being too weak to even be considered.

           “By completing your training and partaking in battles that Optimus, as well as myself, deem suitable to your level,” he responded, his voice aggravatingly cool.

           “Oh yeah, because it’s totally not like _all_ encounters with the Decepticons will be dangerous, now will it?” I shot back sarcastically. “You should know better than anyone that a battle—any battle—can turn for the worst in the blink of an optic!”

           “Watch your tone,” he said sharply, and I almost flinched.

           Sideswipe who had been driving past in his Corvette form transformed then and put a hand on me protectively, looking between Prowl and I. “Hey, what’s going on?”

            “I need to do this,” I continued, looking at Prowl almost as if Sideswipe wasn’t there. “I need to know that I can protect myself.”

           “My answer remains the same.”

           I shook with fury.

           Sideswipe spoke again. “Why not let her come? Sunny and I are going, and we promise to protect her if anything happens.”

           “My answer is no,” Prowl said.

             My voice rose. “You’re such a snob!” I was shouting. I was aware that we were being stared at by passing soldiers and bots, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. “You think the only one fit enough to watch over me is you. That’s why you volunteered to be my guardian in the first place—because of the AllSpark that’s within me. And that is exactly why you don’t want me heading off into this battle—because you won’t be there. If you were going then your answer probably would have been yes—“

             Prowl glanced down at his datapad. “My answer would still have been no, for reasons you don’t seem to be comprehending.”

             “Oh I understand plenty,” I said bitterly. “Too much actually.”

             “What do you want me to say?” snapped Prowl, throwing his hands up. I saw then that he had reached the end of his patience. “Sorry I won’t let you take part in a battle that ah know will be dangerous, too dangerous for ya to handle. Sorry ah don’t want ya gettin’ hurt, or quite possibly killed. _Sorry ah care!_ ” Without waiting for me to reply, he stormed out of the main hanger, leaving us, and a lot of others, standing there in shock.

             After a moment I turned and nearly ran out of the hanger, transforming down so I didn’t have to worry about stepping on anyone. Sideswipe called after me, but I ignored him, marching past the plane that various bots and soldiers were boarding and instead taking the sandy path down to the beach. I walked and walked, my mind replaying snippets of the conversation until it was void of anything but the forward motion, and then I was running. It felt good to be alone with the wind in my hair, the sand beneath my feet. When I’d gone so far that I couldn’t make out the path that led back to the hanger, I stopped and stared at the ocean.

             I had been in the wrong, I knew. I knew some fancy tricks thanks to Ironhide, but against a seasoned Decepticon fighter? I knew now that it was foolish of to think for even a second that I would be able to do anything more than distract him. Wasn’t that what I had done during the last two battles? Only, instead of just distracting the Decepticons, I had also distracted Prowl and caused him to get hurt. Even if he had let me tag along, what real use would I have been? I probably would have just gotten myself captured or someone hurt, and then where would we be? I had been so bent on going that I hadn’t even stopped to consider the burden I would have placing on everyone’s shoulders. And Prowl—

           “Fuck,” I said. I picked up a piece of driftwood and flung it as hard as I could at the water and then another and another, furious with myself for yet again doing the wrong thing.

             Just as quickly as the anger came, it dissipated into nothingness, and I stood there on the shore quiet, spent. The wind was blowing my hair about my face and I tucked a couple of strands behind my ears. I didn’t know what I should do. I doubted very much that Prowl would want to listen to anything I had to say, but I knew that I needed to apologise to him for what I had said.

             I walked forlornly back to the main hanger, strolling in a way that was neither fast nor slow, pausing occasionally to gaze at the ocean. I was trying to think of what I would say. I climbed slowly up the sandy bank and headed to the hanger, my knees shaking slightly. I transformed up as soon as I was inside, immediately noticing that the hanger was nearly deserted, aside from a few groups of training soldiers. I didn’t see Prowl anywhere around, so I made my way through the winding hallways until I reached his office. I felt a sick flutter in my gut as I raised my hand to knock, unsure if he was even inside or not. But knowing I had to speak to him, I finally mustered up the courage to rap my knuckles in a rhythmic tap against the metal surface. Nothing happened, and I was starting to wonder if he really wasn’t in his office, when finally the door slid open and I jumped.

             Mentally I took a deep breath, before stepping inside to find Prowl working at his desk. He looked up as I approached, but aside from his optics narrowing slightly he didn’t say anything, just silently watched me walk up to his desk. Feeling his hot stare, I ducked my head and looked at my feet.

             “I’m sorry,” I said.

             Prowl said nothing.

             I looked up again and the emotionless look on Prowl’s face made me burn all over. I swallowed heavily, wishing in that moment that I had my locket to grab onto. I wanted nothing more than to just disappear.

             “I’m sorry,” I said again, not knowing what else to say. I wanted to tell him the reasons why I had wanted to go so badly, but somehow the look on his face silenced me. When he still didn’t say anything I turned to go, feeling the hot sting of tears fill my optics. I was nearly upon the door when I heard Prowl call out my name. I turned back around to find him regarding me with a blank expression.

             “Why did you want to partake in the mission so badly?” he asked.

             I opened my mouth to spiel the list of reasons I had created for myself of why, but stopped myself. “I’m tired of running,” I admitted. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life running from my fears instead of facing them head on.”

             “I was not saying you had to,” he said.

             “I know,” I said quietly. “I just thought you were.”

             Prowl unexpectedly made no comment, but looked at me with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he bent and reached for something in one of his desk’s drawers, before sitting back up with a datapad in his hand. Wordlessly he held it out to me. I took it after a moment of staring at it in surprise, and turned it on to find the cover of _Jane Eyre_ staring back up at me. I looked up at Prowl in astonishment—my mouth falling open in pleasure. Without waiting for him to say anything, I circled his desk and wrapped my arms around him. “Thank you so much!” I said, grinning from ear to ear. Prowl seemed taken back, and after a moment I pulled away to touch my lips against his cheek in a kiss—the best I could give considering my lips didn’t bend the way they did when I was fleshy. He stared back at me stiffly with wide optics as I leaned back, and my optics widened in horror at what I’d done.

             “Um, sorry.” I quickly scrambled off of him and to the door, pausing only once I reach it to turn back and smile at him. It wasn’t until I was in the hallway that my face flushed with what I’d done.


	27. Getting Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this chapter took longer to write. I've been preoccupied with school lately.
> 
> R + R please! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_In the morning, I woke with a shriek from my usual dream of my grandmother’s Beetle_ spinning out of control into oncoming traffic. It took a few minutes for my sparkrate to return to what could be considered normal, and then I got up, walking across the room to where my bathroom was located. In the bathroom, I shut the door behind me, turned on the shower’s faucet, and stepped in. The hot water was like magic, the thunder of it filling the room in a way that made me feel less alone than I had been just moments before. I stood with my hands braced against the wall and stared at my feet, watching the water spiral into the drain.

           I wasn’t dirty, but I reached for a washcloth on the shelf near the shower and began to scrub myself with it. I scrubbed my face and my neck and my chest and my belly and my back and my rump and my arms and my legs and my feet.

            “I remember when you were little I used to love kissing every part of you,” my grandmother used to say to me. “I’d kiss every finger and toe and eyelid,” she’d say. “I’d trace the lines on your skin.”

           I didn’t remember it, and yet I’d never forgotten it. It was as much a part of me as my mother walking out on my sister and me. More.

           After I had dried myself off, I ate breakfast and spent some time reading _Jane Eyre_ on the datapad Prowl had given me. I kept getting distracted by the thoughts in my head though, and eventually I turned off the datapad to wander the hallways for a bit. My wandering eventually brought me to the main hanger that was void of any people or bots. Seeing as no one was around, I decided to stick around—rather than head down to the beach like I usually did—and began to go over some of the stances Ironhide had taught me, aiming kicks at an imaginary opponent, working to improve the speed and power behind each move, wishing all the while I had my earphones or some way of listening to music while I trained.

           Finally I just started to sing. “In a world that keeps on pushin’ me around, but I won’t back down . . . ,’ ” I sang, my voice trailing off as I spun around mid-kick to find Prowl standing in the entrance to the hallway watching me with a datapad in his hand. He had an unreadable expression on his face, and I immediately dropped my leg, feeling like an idiot for staring back at him with it stuck up in the air like that.

           “Um, hi,” I said, my fans kicking in as I remembered yesterday’s spontaneous kiss on the cheek. “You’re up early.” I checked my internal chronometer just to make sure of the time and realized that I had been at it for over half an hour, though it was still only five-thirty.

           “As are you,” he replied, his crystal blue optics giving nothing away. I worried that by both hugging AND kissing him on the cheek yesterday I had crossed the line in front of him, but before I could apologize yet again for acting without thinking he had already apologized for intruding on my training session and was turning around with his gaze on his datapad—

           “Wait!” I said, and he paused, turning back to face me. An idea had come to me, though I wondered if he would be up to it. “Want to spar?” I asked, smiling cheekily. I missed the days where Abby and I would tussle with each other outside in the dirt, despite the fact that she often fought dirty. Now I would only end up hurting her if I wasn’t careful enough.

           “I have work to do,” Prowl said, glancing at his datapad.

           “One round then,” I said.

           He narrowed his optics, seeming to think it over. I readied myself for another rejection, but to my surprise—and delight—he nodded, subspacing his datapad as he approached me. “Very well,” he said. “You have one round.”

           We both got into position, standing a few feet away from each other. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting going up against Prowl, but I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to wind up on my ass less than a second after we bowed to each other. I sat pie-eyed for a moment, before looking up at him with a scowl. “What the heck, dude!”

           Prowl offered me a hand up and I took it, allowing him to pull me easily to my feet. We both got into position again, only this time I vowed to pay more attention to his legs. Prowl’s wing twitched and then we circled each other. I held both my hands in loose fists—as had been taught to me by my grandfather—at level with my chest, prepared to either grab or punch, while my optics locked onto his. Suddenly Prowl shot out with his hand and I ducked out of the way, striking out with my hand at the same time in an attempt to catch him under the arm in the side. He spun away from me though, coming back around with a kick that landed squarely on my hip in such a way that off balanced me, nearly causing me to fall; and I threw my weight forward, ducking into a roll, and came back up with a punch aimed at his face that he blocked. But at that instant, I could not draw back quickly enough, and Prowl landed a blow with his other fist to my stomach—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send me spiralling a few feet away from him.

           And so it went. Again and again I rushed Prowl, sometimes managing to land a hit, but more often than not getting my ass handed back to me a silver platter. Prowl was holding back on me, I knew. I had watched him battle against the Decepticons, after all, and could tell that he was withholding a lot of blows in order to meet me at my level rather than the other way around. Still, there was no denying the fact that I was having fun. I might not have been able to land a single real blow, but it was sort of like a dance we were doing after awhile; the blocking, the spinning, the ducking, the kicks, the circling.

           At one point I slipped up on a spinning kick I was attempting and would have fallen ass-over-teakettle had Prowl not lashed out with a hand at the last second and caught me. I realized then that we had been at it for over an hour, and soldiers and other bots were starting to mill about the previously empty hanger; my system was also overheated but not by much. Prowl pulled me gently back to my feet, and I tried to ignore the curious stares of the soldiers around us as he waited until I was steady to let me go. “Thanks,” I said, my face warming at my own clumsiness. And to think that I had wanted face the Decepticons—I would have killed or captured for sure. “I guess I need more training than I thought,” I said with a laugh.

           Prowl nodded. “You do,” he said. “However, you did well with the training you have received.” I smiled at his words, but then paused, a sudden question appearing in my processor. I wondered if he would be willing to give me fighting lessons on the side, though part of me doubted it considering he was always so busy. The last thing I wanted was to add to his workload, but at the same time I had noticed—in fighting him and watching him fight—that he fought differently from the others. I was struck with the sudden want to learn from him. I wondered—

           “I have finished writing the Praxian translation program,” Prowl said, and my optics brightened.

           “Really?” I asked. He nodded and held out his hand for my wrist, which I gave to him willingly. He opened his own data-port on his wrist before opening mine, and then transferred the translation program into my systems. I blinked as the program began to integrate into my systems, starting with a small number appearing in the side of my vision. It was overwhelming for a moment as I struggled to make sense of the bits and pieces of the new language that were fleeting through my processor, but I quickly became used to it. It wasn’t my first time dealing with a data-packet, after all, though this packet was larger than a lot of the others I had been given.

           “ _I think I understand_ ,” I said, after a few minutes. Then I blinked, realizing that I had just spoken in Praxian. My optics widened in elation as it really hit me, and I looked up to find Prowl watching me with a smile on his face. “ _Quick, say something in Praxian_ ,” I said to him.

           “ _Something_ ,” he said, and I smacked his arm in feigned annoyance.

           “ _I didn’t mean literally_ ,” I said, loving the way my voice sounded when I spoke Praxian. I still lacked the accent that Prowl showcased—giving his voice that almost musical quality to it—but I still was in love with the language. “ _Do you mind if I ask you a question_?” I asked, recalling what it was I had wanted to ask him. When he said nothing and made no attempt to move away, I took that as permission to continue. “ _I was wondering . . . Would you be willing to teach me how to fight_?” I asked.

           “ _I was under the impression that Ironhide was training you_ ,” he said.

           “ _He is_ ,” I agreed. “ _I just thought that maybe you would be willing to train me in between then.”_ He raised an optic-ridge, but said nothing. “ _If you don’t want to that’s fine_ ,” I said, feeling my hopes sink. Still, I knew he was busy so maybe it was for the best. Ironhide was a good teacher, after all. But Prowl I knew, was the better hand-to-hand fighter. He stared at me for another second or so with the same expression, before subspacing a datapad and turning it on. He seemed to study it for a moment, and then nodded.

           “ _I have some time available in the mornings_ ,” he said, and I nodded.

           “ _That works_.” I rubbed my wrist, absentmindedly taking in the fact that it was starting to ache. Hadn’t Ratchet said something about taking it easy for a few weeks? I shook my head. “ _Can we start tomorrow_?” I asked Prowl, who was watching me rub my wrist with something akin to suspicion in his optics.

           “ _You are in pain_ ,” he said, but not as a question.

           “ _It’s nothing_ ,” I said, but to my surprise he reached over and gently took a hold of my wrist, examining it.

           “ _You have aggravated your injury_ ,” he said as he pressed his thumb lightly into my wrist, watching as I cringed slightly from the dull pain. He narrowed his optics at me. “ _I’m taking you to Ratchet_.”

           “ _You really don’t have to_ ,” I said weakly, feeling that odd tugging back in chest now that we were standing closer together. It was then I noticed that Ironhide was watching us from across the hanger with his optics narrowed. I suddenly was aware of all the eyes of the soldiers also watching us curiously, and decided that maybe it probably _was_ best to go—especially since Prowl and I were still communicating in Praxian, meaning that the soldiers and bots had no idea what we were even saying to each other.

           “I can take her,” Abby said then, and I looked down to find her standing a little ways from our feet with another soldier. I tilted my head in confusion.

           “How did you know what we were saying?” I asked her.

           She shrugged. “Easy. You injured your wrist not long ago, and flinched when he touched it just now. I figured he would probably want to take you to Ratchet.” To say that I was impressed by her powers of deduction would be an understatement.

           “To think that you actually have a brain in there after all,” I said teasingly, and she stuck her tongue out at me. I turned back to Prowl, who was watching us with an unreadable expression. “Would that be okay?” I asked, and he nodded, letting go of my wrist. I smiled at him, before transforming down and walking over to Abby and the soldier.

           “Let me guess,” I said. “This is the soldier you wanted to introduce me to.” My powers of deduction could be pretty good on occasion as well.

           Abby nodded. “This is Jesse Whitaker,” she said, smiling at him.

           “Nice to finally meet you,” Jesse said to me, extending his hand.

           “Back at you,” I said back. He was handsome and looked a bit older than me, his brown hair cropped up the sides similar to how Prowl’s holoform had been. “You aren’t bothered knowing I’m actually a giant robot?” I asked, gesturing to myself.

           “Nah,” he said. “I’m used to the Autobots. Besides from what I’ve heard, I think you’ve been through enough without having to deal with ‘holy fuck’ stares of all the soldiers you meet.”

           “I take it Abby’s been spilling her guts,” I said, giving her a look.

            She flipped me off without even looking.

           Jesse’s brown eyes crinkled into a smile as he watched us. “And here I thought there was no relation between you two,” he said.

           “What?” I turned to Abby with feigned surprise. “You didn’t tell him about us?” I put my hand over my spark, pretending to look hurt. “And here I thought you loved me.”

           “Who are you again?” Abby asked, and we laughed.

           We left the main hanger then and walked to the med bay, chatting on our way down. Jesse, as it turned out, was twenty-six. Four years older than myself, and six years older than Abby. The age difference didn’t seem to matter though as Abby and him got along swimmingly, and soon we were all laughing as we each shared stories about things on and off base. By the time we reached med bay, I had already decided that I liked Jesse immensely. He was a sweet, cute, funny, kind guy and he made me forget how self-conscious a lot of the other soldiers had made me feel.

           “He’s a keeper,” I whispered to Abby as I passed by into the med bay.

           I said goodbye to them at the door and then transformed up into my bi-pedal form to go and greet Ratchet who was treating the mildly injured Chevy twins. How they had gotten injured I had no idea. But I could guess.

           “Princess!” They boomed when they saw me, a name they had taken to calling me for some unknown reason.

           I smiled.


	28. Unfolded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_The next day was hot and sunny. I stood leaning against Prowl’s cruiser as we waited_ alongside Optimus Prime, Ironhide, and Ratchet, all in their alternate forms. We had been driving for some time in the empty desert, somewhere off the island, and had only just come to a standstill to wait for the newcomers to arrive. I had only learned of the imminent arrival of new Autobots coming to Earth earlier this morning, but of course had immediately wanted to tag along with the retrieval team. Optimus Prime had given me permission after I had asked against the wishes of Prowl and Ratchet, both of whom had thought it best I stayed on base.

           Like hell, I thought.

           Staying on base day after day, I was starting to get a little stir crazy. The daily training lessons I underwent with Prowl in the mornings and Ironhide sometimes in the day helped, but it still did little to sooth the caged-bird feeling that had arisen in me these last few days. I wasn’t a prisoner so it wasn’t right I should be kept like one I had told him, besides I _had_ been making some improvements in my training. I may not be a kick-ass fighter yet, but I was confident that I would at least no longer be in the way of the other bots. Not to mention that I really wanted to see just how it was the bots arrived on Earth. I knew a little something about the whole process, having received a data-packet from Ratchet, but as we had flown away from base, I couldn’t quite imagine what I would see when we arrived at the so-called destination where the newcomers were supposed to land.

           I had been standing outside of Prowl for some time and could feel the hot sun glaring down upon me. Even though Cybertronians didn’t actually sweat, my cooling fans had kicked up a few notches since I had been out here from the intense heat. It wasn’t enough to actually have much of a negative effect on me, but I was tempted to climb back into Prowl anyway and blast on the AC. I was eyeing the black and white cruiser with more and more interest, seriously considering doing just that, when all of a sudden a roaring sound hit my ears that actually _hurt_ —it was so loud! I leaned over, covering my ears, and wondering what the hell it was exactly, when everything shook violently. There were multiple crashes, and I would have fallen over from the ground trembling so had it not been for a body that appeared seemingly out of thin air behind me and held onto me tightly to prevent me from being flown backwards. I barely had a chance to shake off my shock, when suddenly the shaking stopped, and the presence behind me disappeared only to be replaced with the sound of shifting metal as all the bots surrounding me began to transform.

           I yelped, not wanting to be stepped on by Prowl or any of the others, and tried to run only for a white hand to scoop me up. I glared half-heartedly up at Prowl, who just raised an optic-ridge. “You could have warned me!” I burst out, earning a semi-amused look from Optimus. Prowl just stared at me while I looked back at him, now sitting in his hand, brushing a few strands of hair out of my face. His optics left my face after a moment though to watch something behind me, and I turned to discover three craters in the Earth a little ways away from where we were all standing.

           I watched in awe as three metal figures transformed out of the metallic shells that had formed the meteors, immediately taking notice of their distinctly feminine figures and much smaller size than even me. Spinning to Prowl, I tapped his hand to get his attention. “Could you let me down, please?” He did so, kneeling down for me, and I stepped off his hand, before transforming up—a little _too_ close it turns out—as Prowl had to quickly take a step backwards to avoid being hit. I grabbed his arm in an effort to stabilize him without thinking about my own stability, which was absent since I had reached out without waiting to get my balance, and instead of helping to steady him all I managed to do was send both of us toppling over onto the ground in a flurry of dust.

           I landed with my face inches away from his own, causing both of our optics to widen dramatically. All thought of greeting the new femmes fled my mind as I stared at him, feeling that familiar sensation of warmth and tugging arise in my chest plates once again. Prowl’s optics were still wide, and I was starting to worry I might have scrambled his circuits, when all at once I realized that I was still laying on top of him . . . with other bots around.

           Yeah.

           Immediately we both scrambled away from each other, sort of resembling two schoolyard kids who had just been caught kissing. It was almost comical how fast we each jumped. I didn’t think I had it in me to move backwards so fast. But I was even more embarrassed to find that everyone was staring at us in amusement, including the femmes who were watching us curiously, chattering quietly amongst themselves in Neocybex.

           Optimus stepped forward then, and began to greet the femmes in their native language. He nodded deeply, before the femme on the right actually rushed a smiling Ironhide, wrapping her arms and legs around him as he caught her tightly. She was his mate, I supposed. I smiled at the sight of them embracing each other, and the two other femmes looked at me curiously, the center femme sauntering over. She moved with a gracefulness that I could only dream of possessing, her body swaying slightly in a startlingly alluring way, before she stood, staring at me.

           “ _What is your designation_?” she asked, tilting her head at me.

           “ _I’m Jane_.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, so I just dipped my head in a greeting that she returned with a soft look of curiosity on her faceplates.

           “ _You may call me Arcee_. _It is a pleasure to meet you, Jane.”_

           I nodded again, murmuring that it was a pleasure to meet her as well, and she left after a moment to go speak to Optimus, who had brought his trailer containing a set of vehicles for the femmes to choose from for alternate forms. I watched as each of the femmes scanned and transformed into motorcycle forms, with Chromia being blue, Arcee being pink, and Flareup being orange.

           And so it went, for the next couple of hours, as I rode in Prowl back to the pick up zone. Prowl and I didn’t speak on the trip back to base, and I bolted out of him as soon as the plane landed, still feeling mortified over what had happened. I hid in my room, until Abby came along, around four, and I told her my predicament; instead of comforting like I thought she would, she informed me that I was being ridiculous.

           “Grow some balls,” she said. “How are you ever going to get together with him if you can’t even deal with something as simple as accidently falling on the guy?”

           I nearly spit out the energon I was drinking.

           “Get together? Are you crazy?”

           Abby shrugged. “What? You guys are always hanging out.”

           “Yeah, because he’s _training_ me,” I said.

           “Oh please,” she said. “I caught you making goo-goo eyes at him the other day when he was speaking to you in Praxian.”

           “Only because I love the sound of the language,” I said, but that was only half true. I loved Praxian, but more than that, I loved hearing Prowl speak Praxian. The two of us tended to speak Praxian more often than not during our fighting lessons in the early morning. Still, I hadn’t thought that my liking of hearing him speaking was so obvious to those around me.

           “Just admit it. You like Prowl.”

           I said nothing. What could I say? No matter what she was just going to say that I liked him. Besides, I supposed that in a way I _did_ like him. He was my guardian, and I certainly considered him a friend, at the very least. But did I _love_ him?

           I blinked.

           “Actually, I’m glad we have some time alone together. There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Abby said, reeling my attention back onto her.

           “Let me guess,” I said, smirking. “You and Jesse are dating.” But to my surprise, she didn’t crack a smile. Instead, she looked startlingly serious. “What is it?”

           “I’m leaving.”

           “Leaving?” I tilted my head in confusion. “Leaving to where?”

           “Home,” she said, blinking. At my shocked expression, she sighed, sitting down on the berth next my metal frame. “I’ve already spoken to Optimus about it, and he’s agreed to let me return home so long as the Chevy twins come too.” She scrunched up her nose. “Lord, help me, having to deal with those two every day.”

           I was too stunned to laugh. “But, why?”

           “I have a business to run, Janie,” she said, looking at the water bottle she held in her hands. “I’ve worked to hard to lose it. Besides, you don’t need me here. You’ve got everything more or less worked out without me being here.”

           “You know that’s not true,” I stammered, but she shook her head.

           “You don’t need me.” She took a sip of water, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “And it’s not like you won’t ever see me again. God, when you make that face it’s like someone told your best friend just died.” I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to beg her to stay—to tell her that I still needed her—that she was all I had left—but I stopped myself. It wasn’t fair that she should give up on her hard-earned tattoo shop because of me.

           Still, her words ‘you don’t need me’ felt like a slap to the face. How the hell did she know what it was I needed and didn’t? Those were the same words she had said to me the day she walked out after our grandparents’ death. Yet again I was going to be left alone. A blanket of coldness I hadn’t felt since Astraea’s death settled over me at the thought.

           “I’m heading back tomorrow,” Abby said, getting to her feet. She flicked back her fiery hair, before motioning to the floor with her head. “Do you mind helping me down?” she asked. I picked her up gently and then placed my palm on the floor near my feet so she could walk off.

           I transformed down then and hugged her before she walked away. “Come say goodbye to me in the morning,” she said, before she disappeared into the hallway off to find Jesse.

           I stood for a while staring at the closed door, feeling numb. I had lost Astraea, Billy, and now, I was going to lose Abby too. Part of me knew that thinking that was ridiculous, that even though she was leaving the island didn’t mean I wasn’t going to get to see her anymore, that I would still get to visit and see her then, just as I always had done. _But I don’t want things to go back to how they were before!_ Another part of me cried. I _liked_ having my sister around, seeing her everyday, talking and laughing like we had when we were younger.

           Tears sprung to my eyes, but I vigorously wiped them away. Instead, I started walking out into the hallway, my mind bent on uncharitable thoughts of my sister. I couldn’t believe how furious I was at her for not choosing to stay. I had the palpable urge to punch her in the mouth.

           _Fuck her_ , I thought, so mad that I balled my hands into fists.

           It was wrong. It was so relentlessly awful that no matter what I did I continued to lose those close to me. I couldn’t even hate Abby properly. I couldn’t even hate my grandparents for dying and not being here with me. I didn’t get to grow up and pull away from them and bitch about them to my sister and confront them about the things I wish they’d done differently and then get older and understand that they’d done the best they could and take them back into my arms again. I didn’t get to have my farm and Astraea and Billy and be friends with my sister. My grandparents death had obliterated that. It had obliterated me. It had forced me to instantly grow up and forgive their every fault at the same that it kept me trapped in the place we’d left off. I was forever cut off, forever an empty bowl that no one could fill, except me, again and again and again.

           _Fuck her_ , I chanted as I marched through the hallways, bumping into people as I went, quickened as I was by my rage. I didn’t even realize where I was headed until I had stopped in front of Prowl’s office. I knocked and the door slid open after only a moment of waiting. Inside, Optimus and Prowl were having a discussion at his desk, but they stopped talking when I walked in. How I was feeling must’ve showed on my face because both—even Prowl—turned to me immediately.

           “Are you well, Jane?” Optimus asked me, concern showing in his optics.

           I opened my mouth to answer, but suddenly found that I couldn’t speak. It was like the sight of Prowl just drained the anger right out of my body. Seconds ticked by without me saying anything, and Prowl walked around his desk to come stand next to Optimus, leaving the datapad they had been going over on his desk. Confronted as I was by both of them, my throat closed up and I turned and dashed out of the room before either one of them could speak.

           I wasn’t sure where I was going this time either, I just ran. I fled all the way to the main hanger, where soldiers were pretending to attack Ironhide, and then to the trail that led down to the beach, stopping only once I reached the shoreline. Energon tears were streaming down my face by then, but I ignored them in favour of looking at the waves crashing into shore. I heard footsteps thudding in the sand from behind me and turned to find Prowl walking up to me. I looked away, ashamed to be caught crying, only for a hand on my shoulder to cause me to whip my head up.

           “You . . .” He took in my energon-stained face and seemed to pause. “Does this have anything to do with your sister departing tomorrow?”

           I shrugged, turning my face to look back at the ocean, but a gentle hand on my chin steered me back to him. I looked up at him in surprise, before the floodgates in my optics fully opened and I started to shake. Without a word he wrapped his arms around me, drawing me close to him as I cried, rubbing my shoulders soothingly. I fell into his embrace without another thought, clutching my wrist against my chest plates as I leaned fully against him.

           I’m not sure how long we stood like that, minutes, an hour maybe. But after a while my shaking ceased and I felt myself relax against him.

           “She leaving me again,” I croaked, weak from crying.

           He didn’t say anything, just continued to hold me. I didn’t mind. It had been a long time since I’d had anyone to vent to. There was no one to listen; Abby wouldn’t, she didn’t like to hear anything concerning our grandparents.

           “Everyone I love always ends up leaving me,” I said. “First my grandparents, then Astraea and Billy, and now my sister. I know it’s selfish, but for once I just want someone to _stay_.” I blinked away more tears, focusing instead on the steady hum of his spark. “My mother was a drug addict who walked out on us when I was five. The man who fathered me, I never met.” I sighed. “I feel like I’ve lost everything.”

           “Not everything,” Prowl said quietly, and it was then I remembered that I was talking to someone who really _had_ lost everything. Shame washed over me then, and I pulled away a little.

           “I’m sorry,” I said. I expected him to nod and let me go, but instead he reached out and surprisingly gently wiped one of my tears away with his thumb. I looked up at him to find an oddly soft look in his optics.

           “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. He tilted his head then. “Would a walk down the shoreline help calm your systems?” I nodded, figuring he just wanted me off of him, and together we began to stroll leisurely down the beach. I found that it was actually very calming just listening to the waves and breathing in the salty air, and it wasn’t long before I started to feel tired. Prowl carried me back the hanger, and through the hallways, depositing me gently on a berth where I quickly dropped into recharge.

           It wasn’t until later, when I finally awoke; that I realized it was his quarters so I wouldn’t have to be alone.


	29. The Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_Abby Bolster left the following morning with the Chevy twins. I loved her again, though_ I still could hardly bear to see her board the plane that would take her home again. I felt cold, but not as cold as the day before. I sat not far from the shore on the beach in my bipedal-form, reading the last few pages on my datapad containing _Jane Eyre_. In the previous years, the book had been a means of escape for myself through my sorrow and confusion. The book was a consolation, an old friend, and even though the story I held no longer existed on paper pages—being on a datapad and all—I still enjoyed rereading it immensely.

           By noon I had finished the book and, feeling drained, had lie back on the sand. I was too lazy to transform despite the irritation I felt as gritty sand worked its way into the crevices between my armour. Even gazing at the sun felt like a mild effort. I closed my optics with the intention of just drowning out the brightness around me for a few moments only to jerk awake two hours later.

           A couple of seagulls were circling overhead and I watched them for a moment before I pushed myself up onto my elbows, looking around groggily. The thought of going to find Abby flashed across my mind, only to remember that she was no longer here. I wondered then what Prowl was doing and if I should stop by—but I quickly scrapped that idea. Yesterday I had interrupted a meeting between him and Prime, the absolute last thing he needed was any more distractions from me. The world did not revolve around me, after all. Still, I missed how constant his presence had been back when we had been staying at farm. It had been nice to be able to look out my window and see him parked below. Now, more often than not, I saw him only in the early mornings for training, unless I went searching or encountered him otherwise, as busy as he was as second in command with various meetings and helping run the Autobot task force. I wondered if he missed me the way—

            I shook my head. Thoughts like that would get me nowhere. I tried to direct my attention onto the warmth of the sun on my plating instead, and how wonderful that felt despite the grittiness of the sand I was laying on. It was a hot and beautiful day out. I supposed I should have transformed to see if it was still possible for me to tan in my human form, but before I could move from my comfortable laying position two shadows appeared to block out the sun from above me. I reopened my optics to find Sideswipe and Sunstreaker looking down at me.

           “Hey, sweetspark!” Sideswipe greeted me.

           I smiled at him.

           “Hey yourselves,” I said. “What are you two doing out here?”

           “Isn’t that obvious?” Sunstreaker said. “We came for you.”

           “Is that so?” I said innocently, all the while wondering what was going on that they came out looking for me. Not that it was unusual for one of them to occasionally come over and greet me if we encountered each other, but both of them at the same time was a bit odd. “What can I do for you boys?”

           “Come with us,” Sideswipe replied instantly, extending a hand to help me up. I dusted what I could of the sand off as soon as I was standing, wincing at the feeling of the sand that rubbed against my protoform.

           Sunstreaker raised an optic-ridge, looking me all over. “You could use a good wash and waxing.”

           “Are you offering?” I asked, placing a hand on my hip. I was joking, of course. But I dropped my hand in surprise when both of them nodded, looking surprisingly sincere about it. I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with letting them wash me, but I _did_ need a wash; and considering that they were offering, I supposed I couldn’t see the harm in it. I let them lead me towards the wash racks outside the main hanger, and then transformed into my alternate form, the Toyota Supra.

           Both twins transformed too before approaching me in their holographic forms and setting to work cleaning me. At first I was a bit self-conscious about having them essentially rub their hands and bodies all over me as they reached and rubbed with sponges and cloths. But after awhile, I sort of got used to the feeling and actually had to admit that it felt _nice_. It was sort of like receiving a massage. Not to mention that the twins were careful about where they placed their hands, making it less awkward to have deal with. Towards the end of it, I was actually sinking on my axels, relaxed under their touch.

           Afterwards, I transformed up and examined my shiny yellow armour, taking delight in the sand-free feeling whenever I moved and the glossy sheen that gleamed in the sun. I thanked the twins immensely, grinning the whole time, only to be pulled by Sideswipe in the direction of the hanger. I followed without protest; uncertain of where it was they were leading me, until we reached my quarters.

           “Go on in,” said Sideswipe.

           I raised an optic-ridge and looked at them, but did as he suggested and typed in the passcode before opening my door. As I went in, I saw that my ceiling and walls had been painted to resemble a morning sunrise, similar to the one the twins had in their quarters, except for the stars that had been painted above on the ceiling. On the far side of wall it began with the rising sun only to morph into twilight and then darkness and stars further across the room. It was breathtaking. I had to circle in all directions in order to take it all in, there was so much to see. There were no words to express my gratitude or how I was feeling, instead I just threw my arms around them, ignoring Sunstreaker’s yelp of ‘watch the paint’ and hugged them tightly.

           “I love it,” I said, smiling like a maniac.

           “We’re glad,” said Sideswipe.

           “But why?” I asked, pulling away from them slightly. “I mean, why go to all the trouble?”

           “Because you looked like you needed a reason to smile,” said Sideswipe. “Not that this was any of my doing. It was all Sunny’s and Prowl’s work.”

           I lowered my arms and looked at them. “Prowl helped do this?”

           “It was his idea,” said Sideswipe.

           “He stopped by last night and commissioned it,” added Sunstreaker.

           I thought back to last night and how I had awoken this morning on his berth. So that was why he had taken me to his room—so the twins could work on painting my room. The thought had me smiling even more, and, after thanking and bidding the twins goodbye, I dashed out of my room towards Prowl’s office. When I knocked but received no answer, it occurred to me that perhaps he was in a meeting. I turned and walked down the hallway to the main hanger, stopping when I spotted Prowl a little ways from the entrance talking with Optimus and Ironhide as well as Lennox and a few other soldiers. Without thinking, I broke into a run and, ignoring Optimus’ surprised look and the several other shocked looks I got from surrounding bots and soldiers, I leapt into the air.

           I grunted, feeling like I had just slammed into a brick wall. But landed with my arms and legs wrapped around Prowl. I leaned my head back after a moment to look at him. “I just found out,” I said, knowing he would know what it was I was referring to. Sure enough, his shocked optics brightened in recognition and he closed his lips. I ignored the wolf-whistles from several of the soldiers around us, including one from Chromia, and kissed his cheek. Afterwards, I carefully shimmied down off him, and glanced at Optimus, who looked torn between being amused and just being startled. “Apologies for the interruption,” I said, and I nodded at Ironhide and Lennox, before excusing myself to walk calmly back to the hallway. I had to resist the entire way not to glance back at Prowl, whose stare I felt burning my back, but somehow I managed it, and I strode down the halls to the med bay. When I entered, Ratchet turned to me and immediately walked over.

           “So, what’s wrong?” He tilted his head me. “Is your wrist bothering you?”

           I wrapped my hand around my wrist, before shaking my head. My wrist ached a little, but was hardly more than an annoyance. “No, it’s fine.” I paused then, unsure of whether to even ask the question I had. “Actually, I was wondering about why it is I always feel a strange burning in my chest whenever Prowl is near me?” I asked.

           “Ah. I was wondering how long it would be before you made that inquiry,” he said, looking relieved that there was nothing actually wrong with me.

           What the hell was _that_ supposed to mean?

          “It is usually an effect that occurs when your spark has chosen its partner,” he went on. “You have grown to care for Prowl a great deal, so it stands to reason that your spark has chosen him for a mate.”

           I was speechless. My spark had chosen Prowl for a mate? What did that mean exactly? That I wanted to sparkmerge with him? So many questions were running around and starting wildfires in my processor that I actually began to wonder if I might pull a Prowl and glitch out. Ratchet looked at me in concern, but I only waved him off, thanking him for his time.

           I walked back to my room and stood for a long time holding my datapad that I had picked up off my berth, too staggered with emotion to read. I looked over at the yellow sun as melted into pink and orange and the softest lavender and then at the dots of stars speckled above me. I missed Abby. I missed my life. But I didn’t want to go back to it either. I realized that I wasn’t so alone in this world. I had actual friends here. Ratchet. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Even the Chevy twins, I realized I oddly felt their absence along with my sister. And Prowl—

           I sat on my berth with my _Jane Eyre_ datapad still in my hands. I’d only been on base for a little more than three weeks, but it seemed like a long time and seemed also like I had only just arrived, like I was only now realizing what was truly around me. Like I was still the woman with the empty bowl, but the bowl had gotten ever so infinitely fuller.

           I turned on the datapad and looked at the cover.

           Then I hugged it to my chest.


	30. Homesick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for another short chapter. The next chapter will probably be longer due to what will be taking place. 
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_The next morning I caught up with Optimus before he went into a meeting, asking for_ permission to leave the island for a few days. Prowl was against my leaving the base, of course, but only because he wouldn’t be able to come with me. Apparently some prominent government officials were coming to visit and as second in command he needed to be present. The thought that he wouldn’t be able to come along saddened me, but to my surprise the Arcee Triplets, who happened to be standing nearby and overheard our conversation, offered to step in as my temporary guardians. Optimus gave me permission then, though Prowl still took some convincing. I understood his concern, though part of me still wondered if it was really me he was worried about, and I promised that I would be gone no longer than three days. He wasn’t happy, but he finally did relent then.

           “I’ll see you in three days,” I said, my optics meeting his. My chest felt tight as I hugged him goodbye, not really thinking about how he hated physical contact. I had come to feel a sort of love for him, but on top of that, I was going to miss him.

           “See that you do,” Prowl said, his optics narrowing, his wings stiff. I could tell that he was still unhappy about the entire situation, but he seemed to give in for my sake, which meant more to me than I could say.

           “Don’t worry, Prowl-bot,” said Chromia, with her hand on her hip. “We’ll take care of her.”

           Prowl narrowed his optics at her, but said nothing as he took a step back from me. His action stung, but I tried to appear like it didn’t, knowing that his displeasure at my wanting to depart was most likely the reason behind it. I thanked Optimus for granting me permission, before following the other femmes out to where we would board the plane outside the main hanger. On my way out, I chanced a glance over my shoulder at Prowl, but he was already walking away with his datapad in hand.

           Once we outside, the femmes transformed into their motorcycle alt forms and drove up the ramps with me walking behind them in my human alt form. Whenever I flew on a plane I never felt comfortable riding in my car alt form for some reason. I always preferred to remain in my human form and just ride in Prowl. But he wasn’t here, so I took a seat on one of the benches on the sides of the plane. I felt dislocated and melancholy as the plane lifted into the air, less excited about heading home than I thought I would be. I grasped my locket with my hand.

           “Cheer up, femmling,” Chromia said from where she was parked nearby. “He’ll get over himself.”

           I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not that young,” I said. Then I sighed. “I know, I just wish he trusted me a bit more,” I mumbled as I squeezed my locket. It seemed like forever since I’d talked to a woman other than Abby.

           “Since when does this have anything to with trust?” she said, and I’m sure that had she been in her bipedal form she would have raised an optic-ridge. “The mech’s just being a mech.”

           “I think what Chromia meant to say is that he is just worried about you,” said Arcee from beside her.

           “But it’s not like I’m going to be unprotected,” I said, though I knew they were right—I’d gotten to know Prowl well enough by now that I could tell when it was he was worried or angry. Most bots seemed to think he was without any emotions, but I knew better. In that we were alike: we tended to hide our feelings. Still, I wished he wouldn’t hide so much from me. Deep down inside I knew that there existed a Prowl who was less jaded—the parts of him that had survived the war.

           “Eh, mechs are like that,” said Chromia. “They like to be the ones to look after their mates.”

           I nearly choked on my own spit. “We aren’t mates!” I burst out, feeling my fans switch on at the thought. Why was the thought so appealing to me?

           “You aren’t?”

           “No!” I shook my head. “We’re just friends.”

           “Huh. You could’ve fooled me.”

           At my confused look, Flareup said, “We’ve received memory files from some of the bots present when you two were together. From what we’ve seen, you two seem really close.”

           “He’s just my guardian. Plus, he’s been teaching me how to fight,” I said.

           “So you haven’t captured his spark?” asked Flareup. “That’s funny. I could’ve sworn that Prowl doesn’t let just any femme hug him.”

           “I have also never known him to take on just any femme as his charge,” added Arcee.

           I shrugged. “It probably had something to with the fact that I have the AllSpark within me.” I looked down at my feet; taking in the pair of boots that Abby had gifted my a few years back for my birthday. I had ridden Astraea in these boots.

           “But he insisted on remaining your guardian despite Optimus volunteering to take you on as _his_ charge,” said Arcee. “That must mean something to you.”

           “I don’t think he trusts anyone else to guard the AllSpark,” I sighed.

           “Oh please,” said Chromia. “He never would’ve agreed to let you out of his sight if that were the case.”

           I blinked, realizing that what she said was true. Prowl could be unrelenting at times—part of which came from being SIC and having to make the tough decisions no bot else had to face. As silence descended upon the femmes and me, I twirled my locket in between my fingers and thumb, contemplating what had been said.

           I was sure that the femmes were still chatting on the internal communications link that I had yet to figure out how to use, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was homesick already, but I didn’t know if it was for the life I used to have or for the base. I wanted to see my sister again, that much was clear, just to check up how she was doing and whether she had settled in back at home okay. I felt like I owed it to her for everything I had put her through transformer-wise. I thought about what the femmes had said about Prowl, and couldn’t help but wonder if he saw me the same way I saw him. Did his spark go all fluttery whenever he was near me? Was it really me he was trying to protect or was it the AllSpark?

           By the time the plane landed and we had all deboarded with me riding atop of Arcee, I was no closer to finding out the truth. It took was almost an hour before we reached Abby’s apartment complex from our drop off point, but considering that we weren’t in any hurry and I was having fun riding motorcycle Arcee, I didn’t mind.

           I left the femmes parked next to the Chevy twins and went inside. Just as I was heading inside through the door Abby appeared from inside, apparently heading out, and we nearly collided. “Janie!” she said, her eyes widening. She threw her arms around me, before leaning back to examine me in worry. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

           “I came to see you,” I replied. “I wanted to make sure that you are doing okay.”

           She rolled her eyes. “Ever the worrywart, aren’t you? Come on,” she pulled me inside to where her apartment was located. “Let’s catch up over a pot of coffee.”

           We talked in the kitchen while Abby put on a pot of coffee, then afterwards we sat around her kitchen table, laughing and telling story after story as the light faded from the sky outside. I told her all about how Prowl and the twins had collaborated to paint my room, complete with how I had tackled Prowl in front of pretty much the entire base. “You sure you two aren’t dating?” she asked when I was finished.

           “Pretty sure,” I said.

           “But you guys are so hot together.”

           “There’s nothing between us.”

           “Right,” Abby said, rolling her eyes. “Like I’m going to believe that.”

           “I’m serious!” I said, though I was smiling. I couldn’t deny that I was attracted to him. I just wasn’t sure he felt the same way about me.

            “So am I,” she said. “Who do you think would be on top?”

             I pretended to whack her. “Don’t ask me that!”

             “Oh please. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it.”

             I blinked. Like hell I was going to answer _that_!

           “Oh, my god,” she said, laughing. “You totally have!”

             “I wouldn’t say that,” I stammered, knowing it was already too late. I turned away, as if looking out the window for the Autobots, so she wouldn’t see the redness of my face. It was eerily silent out, aside from the passing cars.

             “Oh, by the way,” Abby said after she had settled down, “I dropped by old man Phillips and saw your goat the other day.”

             “You did?” I asked, dumbfounded.

           “Don’t look so surprised. Believe it or not, that stupid goat of yours grew on me while I was looking after him.” She swirled her coffee with her cup. “He’s doing really well there. Old man Philips has apparently really taken a liking to the bugger.” Then she laughed. “Apparently he wakes him up every morning for food by banging on the front door.”

           “That doesn’t surprise me,” I said, and laughed. As guilty as I was for giving Billy away, I couldn’t help but feel happy and relieved that he was fitting in with old man Philips. “I’ll have to stop by and say hello,” I said. I looked out the window then at the fading light. “Speaking of which, I should probably get going.”

             “You could always spend the night here, you know.”

             “Thanks,” I said, looking into her hazel eyes. “But I kind of wanted to check on the farm house.”

           “I thought so,” she said. She got up and walked me to the door where she gave me a giant hug. “I’ll be at the shop tomorrow, but feel free to stop by at anytime,” she called as I was walking down the hallway.

             “I will,” I promised, and she waved before shutting her door.

             I walked out into the cool evening air, feeling better after having spoken with Abby. I stopped a moment to stare up at the ever-darkening sky, unable to make out any stars due to being in the city. For some reason the night made me think of Prowl. I supposed it had something to do with the night walks we had taken, or the fact that he himself seemed drawn to it like a moth to a flame, but I kept seeing him standing on the shore with his back to me staring up at the sky. Ever since I had first stepped foot on base I had not once gotten up to look at the rising sun, instead I had risen to walk the shoreline at night alongside Prowl. I liked the twins well enough, but Prowl was the one I really found I was missing.

             I grabbed my locket and took one long last look at the sky, before walking to where the Arcee Triplets were parked.


	31. Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I woke at dawn but couldn’t find it in myself to so much as sit up for an hour, lingering_ instead in my bed while I stared unseeingly up at the ceiling, still drowsy and feeling profoundly out of place in a bedroom that was supposed to be my own. The wind had awoken me repeatedly throughout the night, rapping the tree limbs across my bedroom window in great bursts, sometimes working its way into my dreams of my grandmother’s car crash. It died down a few hours before dawn, but by then it was something else that kept me awake: the silence. The irrefutable proof that I was out here alone in the house alone.

           I crawled out of my bed and got dressed slowly, tugging on a pair of worn out jeans, my tan boots, a blue tank top, with my yellow knitted sweater tied around my waist—not because I needed it, but because I liked it. Afterwards, I sat on the porch and drank energon from a cube while rereading pages of _Jane Eyre_. When I looked up, I saw that a chipmunk was chewing a hole through my wooden shed door in an attempt to get to the food bags inside. I chased it away, cursing it while it chattered at me, until it hit me that I no longer had a need for the food: Astraea was gone and so was Billy. I opened the storage shed and walked inside where I examined the bins of feed I still had left. I scooped out some oats with my hand and let them fall back in a sort of waterfall, feeling empty at the thought of never again using any of the tools in my grooming kit or the bins of feed or the buckets or the rags or the bridle or the blankets. I looked at Astraea’s bridle hanging off a hook on the wall, and recalled all of the times I had ridden her with it on. I lifted it up, pressed it against my body, and closed my eyes.

           I walked back to the house and sat for a long time on the porch with _Jane Eyre_ in my hands, too overcome by my emotions to read. I looked at the femmes parked a little ways from me and then I watched the sky come alive with pink and orange and blue. After a while I got up again and stepped over to the pasture fence, leaping over it, and then walked across the grass full of weeds and wildflowers to the hill where I skidded down to the running stream. The sight of the stream filled me with anguish, but I stopped and dipped my hands into it anyway. I stared into the water, looking at the pebbles and the various leaves that sat wedged in between some of them, but I couldn’t quite relax. It wasn’t only because of the fact that I found myself missing the island—or should I say, the bots who occupied the island. I kept receiving the vague feeling that something lurked nearby, watching me, waiting to pounce. I stood back up and scanned the terrain for Decepticons, then crouched back down, telling myself that there was nothing to fear, before I quickly stood again at what I thought was the sound of metal transforming.

           It was nothing, I told myself. I was not afraid. I started to bend back down only to freeze at the sound of more transforming and then shots ringing out. I sprinted to the top of the hill and saw the Arcee Triplets engaged with Barricade and Sideways. I kept low to the ground, intending to stay hidden, but just then a helicopter showed up directly overhead and whirred past to where the femmes were fighting, splitting apart as it descended and then reforming back into a Decepticon mech. Although the femmes weren’t outnumbered against the Decepticons, they were outmatched when it came to build and size; and I watched with my spark in my throat as the helicopter bot took a shot at Chromia, only for her to flip neatly out of the way—quite a feat for a femme who only had a one-wheeled foot—and fire back at him with a few shots of her own from the blasters on her hands.

           Just then Abby’s blue SUV pulled into my laneway and came speeding towards where I thought I was hiding. Without waiting for him to reach me, I turned and slid back down the grassy hillside. I heard the sound of metal transforming behind me and bolted as fast as I could across the lower pasture, leaping over the small stream, and then jumping with one hand on the top railing over the fence. I took off running again as soon as I landed, but knew that I wasn’t going to be able to outrun the mech in this form. I could transform into my bipedal form, but not only would I be a larger target then, I would also have trouble running through the trees. I was didn’t know what I should do.

           Suddenly, as I was pondering over my different transformations in my vision, I spotted another alternate form that I wasn’t even aware I had. It sort of resembled the body of Astraea and without thinking I triggered my transformation mid-stride. Instantly, I felt myself simultaneously grow and shrink until I was no longer running across the ground on two legs but on four.

           It took me a minute of galloping on four metal hooves to realize fully just what change had taken place, and once I did I panicked and had to narrowly avoid hitting a tree. I snorted and raised my head, fully aware that my head was larger and longer. Then I galloped on, knowing that there was no time to stop and marvel at my new form—I could hear the mech behind me gaining with each ground-eating stride that shook the ground beneath my hooves. I stuck out my nose and picked up speed with amazing swiftness. Faster and faster I went. I swivelled back my ears and could hear that the mech was falling behind; I was outrunning him. A sort of triumphant feeling washed over me then, and I perked my ears as I ran, already thinking of how I would ditch this Decepticon-creep and then circle back to—

           Suddenly my feet slid out from under me and I crashed to the ground. I tried to scramble to up, but to no avail—the Decepticon had already caught up to me and was reaching out with his hand as though to grab me—

           I transformed up then into my bipedal form and tackled him. He fell backward and landed with me on top of him. Immediately I jabbed my fingers into his optics, only to roll away when he raised his hands to his face. He surprised me though by catching my foot, and I quickly transformed my hand into a blaster to shoot at his face, only to miss when he yanked my foot out from under me. I landed hard on my side and went to shoot at him again, but he was on top of me before I could so much as blink. I writhed and twisted, trying to dislodge him, only for his weight to vanish on it’s own after I felt a sharp jab of pain on the back of my neck.

           I rolled over and immediately shot his foot closest to me, scrambling up to my feet as the blue Decepticon swore in Neocybex, snarling at me, before actually taking a couple of steps away from me. I didn’t hesitate. I took aim with my blaster-hand and fired two more shots—this time hitting him square in the shoulder. I took a few steps back as his red optics flared, expecting him to rush me. Instead I was met with a wave of dizziness that caused the world around to spin. My vision flickered, and I took another shaky step backward. He took a step toward me, and I raised my hand that was still in the form of a blaster, only to fall in an ungraceful heap to the ground when my legs suddenly gave out. My last coherent thought was for the femmes to be okay. Then everything went black.

           I regained consciousness to find something hard holding my hands above my head. Slowly I onlined my optics. I took in the dark room around me, unable to make out just where I was, trying to remember what exactly had happened. I tried moving my arms and legs, and found them held down my metal chains too thick to break. My arms were above my head, while my feet were restrained to the floor. Immediately I felt a jolt of panic as it hit me then that I was stuck.

           I tried to wriggle my wrists of the restraints, but it was no use—they were too tight. I continued to struggle anyway, fighting so hard that my impaired wrist began to ache aggressively. Finally I stopped, breathing shallowly. I glanced around; taking in the barren room I was trapped in. I thought irrationally of yelling for help, only to remember that it was the Decepticons I was surrounded by. The last thing I needed was for them to find out I was awake. I needed to escape! I looked around for some way to rid myself of the chains, but considering I was the only thing in the chamber I had no luck. The walls and floor were filthy and decayed; there was one door and no windows; I also noticed that there was no lighting at all, though I was still able to see decently enough due to my enhanced Cybertronian vision.

           I was contemplating trying to figure out the internal communications I had yet to figure out how to use, when just then the door to the chamber opened and a mech of terrifying red optics and teeth entered. I had never seen him before, but even the way he stood was imposing, and considering he appeared to be larger than even Optimus I had reason to fear him.

           “ _I see you are online_ ,” he said in Neocybex, his voice gravelly and low. He took a few steps toward me, and my optics widened as he towered over my frame from even across the room. “ _I apologize for the restraints, but they are necessary to keep you in one place long enough to . . . talk_.”

           “ _What do you want with me_?” I asked. The thought of ignoring him crossed my processor, but I was nervous of what he would do to me if I refused to acknowledge his presence. I tried not to shrink backwards when he stalked over to me, his legs thick and heavy with tank-looking chains making up his feet. He stopped directly in front of me, and I had to resist the urge to start screaming like a maniac at the sight of him up close—he was even more terrifying.

           My fear must have showed on my face because blinked and ran a claw across my cheek gently in what I supposed was an attempt to soothe me.

          “ _I have a proposal_ ,” he rumbled. “ _You have something I want, something I need. It was my intent to tear you limb from limb as I took back what is rightfully mine, but seeing you now_ —” He ran his claw across my cheek again. “ _I have decided to offer you an opportunity to save your spark._ ”

           “ _What sort of opportunity_?” I asked numbly, though I could hardly hear myself for what felt like a great clanging in my processor, which was the realization that my life could come to this. That no matter how tough or strong or brave I’d been, or how hard I had trained for the very reason of protecting myself against mechs like this, I could lose all the progress I’d made since losing my grandparents.

           “ _Become my sparkmate, femme_ ,” the mech said, and his words expanded in my gut like a spray of gunshot.

           “ _And if I refuse_?” I asked as unfalteringly as I could. He seemed to smirk then and put a claw underneath my chin, forcing me to look up at him as he looked down at me. I tried not to tremble at the close proximity—his chest was directly in front of me—but to meet his scarlet optics unflinchingly.

           “ _Then I will take you be force_ ,” he said. He dropped his hand before turning to step across the room. “ _Become my sparkmate by choice, femme. I will have you, one way or the other. I will give you until morning to decide—if you have not made your decision by then, I will have no choice but to take you by force._ ”

           When he left, I stared unseeingly at the door for a while, letting the knot in my throat unclench. Nothing had happened, I told myself. I am perfectly okay.

           But I knew I wouldn’t remain untouched for long if I didn’t figure out a way to escape before tomorrow morning. I was wondering just who that mech was when I recalled something Barricade had said during the battle with Prowl and the Chevy twins back at my farm. Hadn’t he mentioned a Decepticon named Megatron? I knew Megatron to be the leader of the Decepticons from having been with the Autobots, but up until now I had never actually laid optics on him.

           He was one ugly motherfucker.

           Still, the last thing I wanted to do was sparkmate with him or any Decepticon for that matter. I found myself fighting against my restraints again, shaking back and forth on my chain, praying that a link would break or that at least one of my wrists would somehow come free. Pain shot up from my bad wrist, but I continued to fight anyway, not willing to give up so easily.

           After about half an hour of struggling, I finally gave up and hung limply. There was obviously way of escaping the heavy chains. And even if I did happen to break free, where would I go? I was in a Decepticon base, surrounded by Decepticons. That didn’t leave a lot of options in terms of escaping. Not unless the Autobots showed up to save me. At the thought of the Autobots, my mind immediately drifted to thoughts of Prowl. I had promised him I would be back in three days, now it looked like I was going to be breaking that promise.

           I closed my optics then, breathing heavily as the panic truly set in.


	32. The AllSpark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a lot to write for some reason. Hopefully this clears things up for a few people. 
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I must have eventually dropped off into recharge because soon I was dreaming. Not of_ my grandmother or the yellow VW Beetle or the icy road or the snow or the collision into the truck. Instead I dreamed of Astraea. I was hunched low over her back as she galloped across the green of my pasture. It was as if I had gone back in time—Prowl was racing alongside the fence next to us—and the Chevy twins were not far behind him. The wind and Astraea’s midnight mane was in my eyes as the fence appeared in front of us; with a great jump we were airborne. As we landed, the scenery around me seemed to melt and morph, until suddenly I was no longer on Astraea’s back, but was standing next to her motionless body. The day was the opposite of how I felt as I gazed down at her; it was bright and cloudless. I heard thudding steps behind me and I turned to find the blue mech with scarlet optics coming at me with a needle. I tried to run, but my legs refused to move, suddenly I was sinking, sinking, sinking—

           I woke with a shriek, finding myself lying on the ground in my pasture. Beams of sunlight blocked out my vision, warm against my hair and skin, and it occurred to me that I couldn’t hear the thrumming of my spark. Instead I possessed a heartbeat. I sat up then, trying to figure out if everything had just been a dream or not. Perhaps the femmes had fought the Decepticons off and had come back to save me from the blue mech. Only I was human now, wasn’t I? I pinched the skin on my wrist hard as I could and felt a sharp jab of pain. That ruled out the possibility of being dead, at the very least. A gust of wind blew my strands of my blonde hair into my face, and when I looked up again I was surprised to find my grandmother standing there.

           Except it wasn’t her.

           My startled green eyes met her violet ones and suddenly I remembered where I had seen her before—in a previous dream. I had nearly forgotten it, thinking that it had been just that—a dream—but seeing her now, it hit then just who this person really was. I stood up then, realizing as I did that I was wearing the same clothes that I had put on this morning.

           “You’re the AllSpark,” I said but not as a question.

           She didn’t answer.

           “What are you doing here?” I asked without emotion.

           _We are you._

           “Yeah, I get that,” I said. And I did; I finally understood what she meant by that phrase. “But what are you doing _here_?” I asked, gesturing all around us. “And for that matter, what am I doing here?”

           _You are in pain_ , she said with sympathy in her eyes.

           “You mean . . . with the Decepticons?” I asked, and she nodded. The heaviness returned to my chest at the thought I was still with the Decepticons as we spoke. My mind went to what Megatron had said about only giving me until morning. My eyes burned. “What, is this your way of comforting me or something?”

           She didn’t answer.

           “If you really want to help me, you could start by doing more than just visiting me in my dreams,” I said, wiping my face and nose with my hands. “Megatron wants power over you too, you know.”

_We are you._

“So you keep telling me,” I said. I stared down at my boots, taking in the cherry laces, thinking it strange that I was asleep but felt exhausted. “Why did you choose me?” I asked, expecting her to evade my question.

           _Our children would have misused us_ , she said, her voice sounding so much like my grandmother, but at the same time nothing like her. It was otherworldly with an almost echoing quality. I wondered briefly what her true appearance looked like. _We have many forms,_ she said as if she could read my thoughts.

“Then why take the form of my grandmother?” I asked.

           _Is this form not a comfort to you?_

           “It really isn’t,” I said. Then I paused, thinking of what she had said. “You mean to say that you transferred into me because you afraid of being misused, and yet still refuse to help me now, aside from appearing in my dreams?”

           _We are you._

           “Stop it,” I commanded, and my head snapped up to glare at her. “Just stop it. I want to know why you won’t help me.”

           **_You_** _are we._

           “And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked, feeling angry all of a sudden. I was sick and tired of these half-assed answers I was getting from her all the time. But all she did was tilt her head at me in sympathy.

           _We have the ability to transform_ , she said as the world around us began to fade into black. Her body too, started to disappear until I was looking at just her glowing violet optics.

           “Wait!” I said, but it was too late. I was already sinking into the ground, down, down, down, then suddenly I was falling. Her violet optics watching me fall until the blackness had swallowed me whole—

           “ _Wake up_!”

            I jolted awake with a gasp as I took in a pair of crimson optics right in front of me. As much as I hated trying to squeeze answers out of the violet-eyed-sphinx in my dreams, I suddenly wished very much that I was back there right now instead of finding myself tied up in my dark cell with a rather irate-looking Decepticon seeker towering over me. I tried not to tremble as he wrapped a hand around my neck.

            “ _Worthless femme! Lord Megatron is due back any time now and here you are in recharge_!”

           My spark lurched with fear at his words. His hand tightened almost painfully over my throat and I tried not to squirm as I felt my air intake being cut off.

           “ _Starscream_!” a voice bellowed. Immediately the grip on my throat vanished as the silver seeker spun around almost meekly to face Megatron who was stalking over, his red optics flashing dangerously.

           “ _My Lord! I was just_ —” said Starscream, but Megatron grabbed him roughly by the wing and tossed him onto the ground a few feet away from me. I was terrified but forced myself not to flinch as Megatron turned back to me to inspect my throat cables. I could hear Starscream picking himself up off the floor, and Megatron turned back around to growl menacingly.

           “ _You are lucky she isn’t damaged_ ,” he said, pointing his weaponized right hand at Starscream, who hastily backed out of the room clutching his shoulder. Megatron watched him go before swinging back to face me. “ _Now where were we_?” He blinked, a strange glint filling his optics. “ _Ah, yes. I believe you were about to inform me of your decision_.”

           I panicked, not knowing what to say. I didn’t want to sparkmerge with him but I was afraid of what he would do to me if I outright refused. My processor scrambled to find something to say that would buy me some time. Then I thought of something pertaining to what he had said to me yesterday—

           “ _It’s because I’m the AllSpark, isn’t it_?” I blurted out.

           He stopped in front of me, peering down at me with an unreadable expression in his optics. “ _Speak clearly, femme_.”

           “ _That you want me for your mate_ ,” I said evenly. “ _I mean it’s the only way you’re ever going to get the AllSpark_. _It being inside of me and all_.”

           “ _Make no mistake, femme_. _I will have the AllSpark regardless of whether or not I take you as a mate.”_ He put a claw under my chin and tipped my head up so he could stare directly into my optics.

 _“Except that’s not true,”_ I said, struggling not to recoil from his touch. “ _You see, the AllSpark and me are sort of inseparable at this point. But you already knew that, of course. That’s why you want to take me as your mate. Maybe you also think I’m pretty or something, but none of that else matters, because to control me would be to control the AllSpark. Except for one itty-bitty thing you seem to have forgotten._ ” His red optics flashed, and I smirked, knowing that I was provoking him. “ _Me_. _I **am** the AllSpark. It bends to my will and my will alone. You will never control **me**._”

           “ _Is that so_?” he asked, and my smirk faltered as my burst of bravado faded. He was looking at me with a predatory look in his optics now, and my optics widened as his hand reached for my chest plates. I struggled against my restraints as I realized just what his intentions were, but he merely grabbed harshly at the catches on my chest plates. It wasn’t until he had begun to forcefully pull my chest plates apart that I gasped and triggered my transformation down into my human form. As I shrunk I slipped out of my cuffs and then quickly transformed back before I hit the ground. I knew my weapons had been disabled so I used the force behind my transformation to knock Megatron backwards. Then I ran. I darted towards the door, not caring that the ground shook with a sudden explosion, only to be yanked back by a painful grip on my arm. Megatron threw me backwards onto the wall, knocking the air out of me. I might have thought to transform down again, but before I could so much as blink he had his claws wrapped around my throat. I tried to gasp, but was unable to take in any air. I couldn’t breathe, and my core temperature was quickly rising. I clawed at his hand, but he merely sneered and lifted me off my feet. I tried to think of a way out of his grasp, but found that I couldn’t focus on any one thing clearly. All I could feel was pain and terror. Blinding terror.

           Another explosion rang out, causing the room to shake.

           My vision was starting to flicker. Flashes of red warned me that my body was overheating dangerously. The cooling fans were all off, and my chest began to burn, like I was literally being burned alive from the inside out.

           Finally, just as I thought I was about to offline, Megatron let go and I dropped to the floor in a boneless heap. Gasping harshly, I struggled to pull air into my starving tanks, feeling as my cooling fans switched on to the highest setting I’d ever recalled. Slowly my vision began to clear. Before I had fully recovered, however, Megatron grabbed me and held me against the wall again. I tried weakly to fight him off, but he just trapped using the weight of his body and once again attempted to pry open my chest plates. Sharp pain shot up from the area as I resisted and his claws tore into the seams. I kicked him as hard as I could between the legs, but got no reaction aside from a snarl. The hand disappeared from my chest plates then, only to curl around my tender throat. The pain was nearly blinding, and if I could I probably would have screamed. As it was, however, the most I could do was scratch and claw at his hand as he squeezed me even tighter, seeming to derive pleasure in my pain. I thought I was as good as dead, that this time it would be my lifeless corpse he let go. Then the door burst open.

           Abruptly the hand around my throat disappeared and I crumpled to the floor, sucking cool air into my overheated frame. All at once, sound came rushing back to my ears and the red faded from my vision. I pushed myself shakily to up against the wall and held a hand against my damaged throat.

           To say that I was shocked to see Prowl beating the slag out of Megatron would be an understatement. His optics were a murderous red as he spun around the much larger Deception, landing blow after blow so quick his limbs were nearly impossible to see. Megatron snarled and fired at him, but Prowl merely ducked out of the way, before firing back with his acid gun. The blast struck the Decepticon leader square in the chest, sending him reeling backwards into the wall. Parts of the ceiling fell down, but Prowl paid no heed as he pulled out a dagger and continued after Megatron, the red tint never leaving his optics.

           Just then Optimus appeared in the doorway. He took one look at me and came striding across the room, probably to get me away from where Megatron and Prowl were still fighting, but before he reached me a dagger flew inches past his face mask, landing on the far wall. I heard a snarl, and my optics widened when I realized that it was Prowl who had thrown the dagger. Optimus stayed away from me then, taking shots at Megatron whenever the opportunity presented itself. Between Optimus and Prowl, who was relentless in his attacks, Megatron was driven further and further away from me. Eventually Megatron backed toward the door, only to take a shot at me, which Optimus blocked using one of his energon swords.

           “ _This isn’t over_ ,” he warned, blasting the ground at Prowl’s feet, before making a hasty retreat out the doorway. Prowl subspaced his gun and turned toward me, his face expressionless but his optics still a dark Decepticon red. I had never seen such a look on him before and I found myself actually taking a step back out of fear. Deep down I knew that Prowl would never hurt me, but I don’t think I was thinking straight. All I saw was Megatron’s optics glowering at me, and I wrapped my arms around my chest plates before I could think better of it. Prowl froze at my reaction, his wings stiff as boards on his back, before he actually took a step back, his optics shifting from red back to icy blue. Optimus nodded at him, before turning to me with a look of concern on his face as I realized that he had snapped back his battle mask.

           “Are you well, Jane?” he asked me, taking a step toward me. I stiffened, and he seemed to notice this because he stopped. Shame washed over me then, knowing as I did that Optimus would never in a million years do anything to hurt me. But I still felt unsafe for some reason. I looked over at Prowl, who was watching us silently, a closed off expression on his face. I took in his battered appearance, the way in which his wings trembled slightly, and before I knew what I was doing I had taken a step towards him. Prowl opened his mouth as if to say something, only to shut it, and stay where he was, letting me come to him. I took another hesitant step forwards, clutching my chest plates still, and then another and another. Soon I was standing in front of him. For a second we just stared at each other, then Prowl reached out with a hand and let it hover a moment above me before gently laying it against my cheek. I started to shake then, unable to contain it any longer, and the next thing I knew he had his arms around me and I was crying.

           More explosions rang out, causing the walls to shake and more pieces of the ceiling to fall. Wordlessly Prowl scooped me up bridle-style, and carried me out the door with Optimus walking ahead of holding into a pair of guns in his hands. Outside it was a battlefield, even in the hallways. Decepticons attempted to shoot at us, but were taken down by Optimus and then a suddenly appearing Ironhide who walked behind us, taking shots at any Decepticon who dared to show their face. I didn’t pay much attention though. It was as though all my anxiety and fear just melted, and the pain in my throat and my wrist and my chest plates suddenly burst forth, along with an almost overwhelming exhaustion. I dropped my head against Prowl’s chest and closed my optics, trusting him along with the others to get us out of here safely.


	33. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this story thus far!
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_Everything passed by in blur then. Prowl carried me all the way through the base until_ suddenly we were outdoors, then I transformed painfully down into my human form and rode in Prowl as he sped across the grass and between trees to a large clearing where a massive plane was waiting for pickup. As soon as Optimus and Ironhide and the others were aboard, we were off.

           The ride was quiet, but not relaxing. Prowl was eerily silent, even for him, and I found myself gripping my fingers around the seat as I struggled with the pain in my chest and wrist and throat. Images of the red-optics of Megatron towering over me with his claws wrapped around my neck, crushing it, kept flashing across my vision, and I found it impossible to believe that I had escaped with my life. I kept thinking as ridiculous as it was that I was suddenly going to wake up and realize that my rescue had all just been a dream. Tears sprung to my eyes at the thought of just how close I had been to becoming Megatron’s mate. I knew I should be rejoicing at the fact that I had been rescued, but I could not relax. I gripped the seat even harder, only for it to hit me then that it was Prowl I was touching; and I recoiled as if I had been burned. I jumped as holoform Prowl appeared in the seat beside me.

           “I’m sorry,” I said, turning away, only to stop when he touched my arm lightly.

            “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. He narrowed his eyes then as he took in the multiple bruises on my chest and neck, before reaching out with a hand and very delicately wiping away a tear off my cheek. Very slowly, he trailed his hand down to my neck; ghosting over the blue-tinged bruises there. I tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder at the memory of Megatron choking me out, and Prowl’s blue eyes shot up to mine. Even without him saying anything, I knew exactly what he was thinking, and I shook my head with a weak smile.

           “He tried, but I fought him,” I said, reaching up to grab my locket only to wince when I realized that it was my bad wrist. Prowl eyes flashed red at my words only to shift back to blue when I flinched away from him, clutching my wrist. He lowered his head, seeming to fight an inner conflict, before he reached forward and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to his chest. At first I stiffened at the contact, but then I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding and sagged against him. I felt safe in his arms. I unfolded and snaked my arms around his middle as well, clinging onto the fabric on his back, closing my eyes as I breathed in the essence of him. I wanted more than anything to just stay like this forever. Safe and comforted.

           But the plane did eventually land, and I could hear the engines of the other bots as they began to deboard. Prowl was the last one to drive down the ramp, and as he did, his holoform pulled away from me slightly before flickering out altogether. He stopped a little ways from the main hanger, and I hesitated before climbing out into the sunshine and transforming. Prowl followed me up, and I found myself glued to his side as we walked into the hanger.

          “Sweetspark!” a voice called out, and I turned to find Sideswipe rolling toward me, trailed closely by Sunstreaker. Sideswipe moved to embrace me, and Megatron flashed across my vision, causing my optics to automatically widen and my body to involuntarily take a step backwards. Prowl’s wings flared and he stepped in front of me. Both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker stopped then seemingly confused. Sideswipe peered around at me, his optics widening and then narrowing in anger when he took my battered form. “Who damaged her?” he demanded, drawing the attention of soldiers and other bots alike; and I flinched at the fury in his voice.

           Prowl must have sensed my distress because he said, “Now is neither the time nor the place, Sideswipe. I suggest you return to your duties.” The steady tone of his voice calmed me somewhat, though I still clutched my wrist to my frame, the tension emitting from the twins palpable enough that I could almost slice through it with a butter knife.

           “Like slag I am! I want to know who injured her!”

           “That was an order, Sideswipe,” said Prowl, but I peered around in time to see Sideswipe take a single step forward on his wheeled foot, his face the stormiest I’d ever seen. Prowl snarled suddenly, startling all three of us as well as the others near us. I had never heard Prowl snarl at anyone before, and it caused me to wonder just how much stress he was truly under that caused him to be so protective of me. Just then Ratchet appeared striding towards me.

            “All of you slaggers back off so I can treat my patient,” he growled, causing me to duck behind Prowl, who stubbornly refused to move out of the way. Ratchet came to a stop then, most likely taking in my fear and Prowl’s subsequent protectiveness. “Alright, both of you come with me to med bay.” He took a step backwards then and waited.

           Prowl nodded, before turning to face me and extending his hand. I took it after only a slight hesitation and followed him as he led me past the gaping twins after the medic who had turned to walk back to the med bay. His energy waves danced across my palm as I held his hand, and even despite the condition I was in, I still felt telltale burning in my chest as I did whenever I was near to him. I tried to ignore as I walked beside him through the hallways until we reached the med bay, where I took a seat on one of the metal berths. Prowl stood beside me, no longer holding my hand but remaining close for some reason or another, and I sat fiddling with my fingers in my lap, wishing I had my locket to latch onto. Ratchet approached me carefully, eyeing Prowl’s defensive position, and I felt the telltale tingle of a scan being conducted. His expression immediately hardened. Wordlessly he gently tipped my head back, and I hissed at the pain such an action brought.

           “You have suffered massive denting to your neck cables,” Ratchet said with an odd quietness in his usually gruff voice. “I will have to pull the dents out. I will be as gentle as I can, however, I cannot guarantee that there will be no pain. Do you wish to be sedated for the procedure?”

           “No, I can take it,” I said, after thinking about it—I wanted to be sedated, but I was nervous about it making me vulnerable. I was exhausted, but I refused to allow myself to fall into recharge. Ratchet nodded, and began to one by one to pull out the dents on my neck. He was surprisingly gentle about it, but still it hurt. I found myself counting from one to fifty in my head in order to give my processor something else to think about. When he had finished, he moved onto my chest plates, pulling the dents of there as well, before finally taking a hold of my wrist and examining it. He vented.

           “Normally I would put a support brace on an injury like this, but seeing how you would be unable to transform with it on . . .” He shook his head. “For now I don’t want you using this wrist at all until it has adequately healed. I fear the damage may be permanent at this point.” I guess that ruled out fighting practice, though I wasn’t sure I would have been training for a little while yet anyway. I jumped when Ratchet put his hand on my shoulder. “I am glad that you are alright, Jane,” he said, looking seriously into my optics. Then he pulled out a cube from his subspace and handed it to me. I blinked, before taking a small sip that quickly turned into a longer gulp when I realized just how low on fuel I was. Ratchet watched me for a moment, and then he turned his attention to Prowl. “Take a seat and I will tend your injuries while she is refuelling.”

           Prowl sat on the berth across from me, and Ratchet went about tending to his various tears and dents. I drank my cube in silence, staring at my feet, before looking over at Prowl’s feet. I took in the way the front part of his feet were black while the back parts were white, and I was struck with the irrational desire to reach out and lightly run my fingers across them. I wondered if he was ticklish anywhere, like on his feet or his stomach—

          I finished drinking my energon and waited for Ratchet to be done with Prowl. I didn’t have to wait long before Ratchet nodded and subspaced his tools that he had been using. Both Prowl and I stood up then. I handed Ratchet my empty cube, before quickly wrapping my arms around him in a hug. It took him only a second to hug me back and then he embraced me tightly. When I pulled away, I stood on my toes and placed a kiss to his cheek. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he just closed his mouth and nodded at me and then at Prowl. I turned to Prowl then, who was watching us with an unreadable expression, and he circled one of his wings in a silent invitation to go. I wanted to reach for his hand, but I didn’t dare out of fear that he didn’t want me touching him. Instead I walked close to his side as we headed down the hallway towards the Autobots quarters.

           We stopped at my quarters, and I unlocked the door using my passcode, then I turned back to him. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but remained quiet for some reason or another. Instead we just stared into each other’s optics. I wanted to invite him in, but didn’t know how to go about asking. It’s as though all my words just dried up on my tongue the moment I looked at him.

           “Do you want to come in?” I asked finally, staring into his azure optics.

           He stared back at me for a moment and then he nodded. I walked in with him trailing behind me. My room was exactly how I had left it; complete with the sunrise and the stars and everything. I don’t know why I was surprised, considering I’d only been gone for two days. It just felt as though so much had happened. I took a seat on my berth and motioned for Prowl to join me; and after a moment, he did. We sat side by side in silence for a few minutes, and I found myself leaning against him with my hands in my lap. It was comfortable being with him like this. I never felt obligated to speak, I could just sit and bask in his presence. My optics fluttered shut.

           “I’m sorry,” he said, and my optics shot back open as I sat up to look at him. He was staring at the floor; outwardly there was no expression on his face aside from a mask of neutrality, but his wings were low on his back.

           “Whatever for?” I asked, tilting my head, looking at him.

           “For not protecting you,” he said quietly. “I should have been there.” His wings dropped even lower. “At the very least I should have prevented you from going until I was available.”

          “It wasn’t your fault,” I said, shaking my head slowly.

           “I disagree.”

           “Well, I disagree with you disagreeing,” I said, teasing lightly. My smile quickly faded as my mind flashed back to Megatron. Involuntarily I folded my arms around myself. Prowl noticed and glanced at me with a hard expression in his optics. I shied away from him—the look reminding me of how Megatron’s optics had looked when I had provoked him—and he tucked his wings in a silent apology. I looked at wings then, finding myself fascinated by just how much he used them to communicate. “Do all Praxians communicate using their wings like you do?” I asked, staring at them.

           “They do,” he said, nodding. “More even. I am less expressive than most.”

          I blinked, trying to imagine a more expressive Prowl, and continued to stare at his door wings. I found myself wanting to stroke them, as weird as that sounded. “Do you mind if I touch them?” I asked without thinking. It wasn’t until after I’d already spoken that I recalled Ratchet having mentioned once that he hated his wings being touched. I ducked my head and opened my mouth, but to my surprise he shook his head very slowly.

           “You may,” he said, though his wings seemed to recoil slightly.

           “Are you sure?” I asked, and he nodded. I reached out slowly then with a hand and pressed it lightly against the outside panel of the wing closest to me, watching at how he seemed to tense at the contact. Very delicately I brushed my hand across the smooth surface, his energy tingling beneath my fingertips slightly. “Why do you hate your wings being touched?” I asked quietly, repeating the same action a few times in an attempt to get him to relax.

           “I have a complex sensory network in each of my wings that allow me to sense what is around me more thoroughly than that of any typical Praxian,” he responded. “Because of this my wings are particularly sensitive.” He almost seemed to shudder under my touch, and I expanded my strokes so that I was starting from the top of his wing to nearly the bottom. It was kind of difficult to reach from my position though, so I crawled onto my berth and situated myself on my knees behind him where I had better access. I continued to stroke his wings silently for a few more minutes, during which I felt his wings occasionally recoil from my touch or, at other times, actually push against my hand.

           “Am I hurting?” I asked, but he shook his head.

           “Not at all,” he said, his voice strangely relaxed sounding. I noticed too that his wings were low on his back, and now only gave the occasional twitch when I would venture close to the hinges. I stayed away from them, deeming them more sensitive, and continued my actions. After a little while, when I was close to lulling myself into recharge, Prowl pulled away from my hands and turned to face me, his optics dim. “You need to recharge,” he said, moving to stand up. Without thinking I grabbed his hand with both of mine.

           “Stay,” I said, looking up at him with a pleading expression. He stared at me in silence for so long that I started to think he was going to decline spending the night and I dropped my hands, only for him to nod and sink back onto the berth. I scooted over to give him room and together we lay down side by side on berth. I was so tired but I didn’t want to give into sleep yet. Instead, I stared into his blue optics, taking in the contrasting red of his chevron. Without thinking of what I was doing I scooched closer to him, drawn to the gentle thrum of his spark like a moth to a flame. I closed my optics then, unable to resist the downward pull of my lids, feeling safe with him, and fell asleep.


	34. Bundled Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for disappearing! I needed a bit of a break from writing for a few days. Also, apologies for the shorter chapter this time around.
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I onlined my optics the next morning to find myself laying in the same position that I’d_ fallen asleep in, optic-to-optic with Prowl’s white chest, his red Autobot insignia just below his neck on his armour staring sideways at me. To say that I was surprised to find that he was still here, all things considered, and still in recharge at that would be an understatement; and for an entire five minutes, all I did was lie there, staring at that little red face whilst listening to his spark pulse. I was almost lulled back into slumber by the thrumming of his spark, but before my optics fluttered shut I tilted back my head and gazed into his face.

           He looked different sleeping than he did awake. Gone was the apathetic mask he always wore on his faceplates, instead he was relaxed, almost peaceful looking as he recharged. His wings lay limply against the berth on the other side of him, giving him a sort of cute appearance as one of them would occasionally flick. I looked back at his faceplates, drinking in the smoothness of the metal on his forehead and cheeks and nose, and, not to mention, his pointed chevron. Without thinking I reached over and delicately traced my fingers across the upper edges of it. I wasn’t anticipating any reaction to come from so light a touch, but, to my surprise, his wing fluttered a bit. I blinked, before reaching up and stroking his chevron a bit harder this time, and couldn’t resist the smile that sprung to my face when he actually purred. I knew that he was still asleep, but his reaction was so cute I decided to see how far I could take it before he woke up. I shifted closer to him and brought my face up to his until we were almost nose-to-nose, taking in the intricate details of his faceplates up close. I wanted to run my fingers across them, but I didn’t dare out of fear of waking him up. Instead I just lay there, listening to his soothing spark pulse whilst fighting off the urge to shutter my optics and sleep. I stared at his metallic lips, wondering sleepily if Cybertronians kissed or not. Somehow I doubted it due to metal not bending the same way as flesh. While I was pondering this, Prowl’s wing twitched and I glanced up to find that he was online.

             For a moment we just stared at each other. I was startled, but when he did no more than look at me silently I allowed myself to relax. I didn’t move from my nose-to-nose position and surprisingly, neither did he. I stared into his crystalline optics, thinking that they were even more beautiful up close. Without thinking I reached my hand out and very lightly brushed my fingers over his cheek, loving the smoothness of the pearl metal. He said nothing, but continued to stare at me with an unreadable expression on his faceplates, though his optics brightened momentarily.

             However, after a moment his optics dimmed and he pulled away from me as he sat up on the berth.

             “Where are you going?” I asked, sitting up as well, watching as his doorwings flapped a couple of times while he stood.

            “I have work to do,” he said, retrieving an energon cube from his subspace. He produced one for me as well, handing it over. “You should rest.”

             “I could say the same thing to you,” I said, raising an optic-ridge. Then I sighed and took a sip of the energon. It tasted like nothing to me. I might as well have been drinking grass, but still I tipped the cube and forced myself to swallow, knowing that I needed the energy for the day ahead. When I was done my cube, I looked up to find that Prowl was watching me with an unreadable look on his face. After a moment, he smiled and tapped the side of his mouth. I blinked, before reaching up and touching the side he was indicating to, and pulled my fingers back to reveal pink energon. As embarrassed as I was to be caught with energon smeared on my face, I smirked and decided to have a little fun.

             Wiping the energon off with my index finger, I stuck my finger into my mouth and began to suck it as well as could with my metal mouth, keeping my optics locked on Prowl the entire time. After I was done, I ran my tongue delicately over my upper lip, before getting up and sauntering over to Prowl, tilting my head up at him. “Did I miss anything?” I asked, making sure to stand only inches from him. The proximity of our chest plates brought up that familiar tugging sensation and without meaning to I wrapped my arms around my chest, images of Megatron’s claws reaching for me clouding my vision.

             Prowl looked for all the world like he wanted to say something as he reached out a hand, only to stop when I involuntarily shied away. After a moment, I turned to him slowly again, ducking my head in apology, and leaned my torso against him. He enfolded his arms around me slower this time and rubbed my back soothingly as we stood like that for a while. Gradually I relaxed and no longer shook against him. I felt pathetic and weak for having my body react this way, especially considering nothing had _actually_ happened while I was with Megatron. I should be fine. I _was_ fine.

             I took a deep breath, before pulling away and smiling up at him. “I think I will stay here for a bit. Maybe take a shower,” I said. He stared at me with an emotionless expression, but nevertheless he released me and nodded.

             “Contact me if you need anything,” he said. After he left, I went and sat on the edge of my berth with my head in my hands. Rage and regret welled in me, though I did everything in my power to suppress the feelings, I could still feel tears spring to my optics. I lay back on my berth, flat on my back, and closed my optics to blot out the world so I wouldn’t burst into tears. The berth was still warm and smooth, and I focused on that. It felt incredibly good against my back.

             After a while I rose and went to the shower area for the soldiers. As I washed, I found myself longing for the sounds in the forest back home. I vividly recalled the mornings when I would just stretch out across Astraea’s back and listen to the songs of birds in the trees. I missed Astraea terribly. I recalled the way the would carry her head and tail—the curve of her neck—the intelligent look of her eye—

             I tilted back my head and let the shower spray my face, letting my thoughts of Astraea and home trickle down my body into the drain.

             Half an hour later, I was walking mindlessly down the hallway headed for my room when the other three femmes intercepted me. As happy as I was to know that neither of them had been offlined or taken by the Decepticons, I had hoped to spend the rest of the day in solitude, away from everyone. Before I could make a mad dash to escape, however, Chromia had already scooped me up and was wheeling towards the main hanger. “Where are you taking me?” I asked, looking up at her numbly.

             “We’re going to dance,” she said, winking down at me. I was about to tell her that I didn’t really feel like dancing, but before I could so much as say one word she had already plunked me down on the ground and told me to transform up. I stepped back and did so and stood somewhat awkwardly as music sounded from one of the femmes speakers and they all started to dance. Some of the human soldiers stopped and stared, along with the other bots in the hanger, though none of the femmes paid them any mind. After a while, Chromia wheeled over and took my hands and started to twirl around me. “Come on, femmling! Dance!” she called over the music.

             I was about to pull away, but seeing the encouraging looks on the faces of the other femmes, I began to dance and then regretted it immediately. My knees felt stiff and creaky from never having danced as a Cybertronian before, my hips strangely inflexible, but just as I was about to stop, the other femmes joined in with me and we all started to dance together, spinning in and out of each other’s orbit, shaking it like crazy. Soon I started to relax and it hit me then that I was actually having a lot of fun. Chromia was by far the best dancer of us all—not to mention the most explicit—but by then I was no longer self-conscious and was instead having fun trying to imitate her rolling hip movements.

             I heard a wolf-whistle from somewhere across the hanger and looked over to see Ironhide walking over to where Chromia was currently spinning. The last thing I expected to happen was for him to start dancing with her, but that was exactly what he did. I nearly stopped dancing from shock. He was so huge and bulky, I would have never pinned him for being a dancer, but surprisingly, him and Chromia danced very well together. I had to turn away, however, once Chromia began to grind her rear-end against his groin plating.

             Just then I saw Prowl walk into the hanger from the hallway with a datapad in his hand. He looked up and stopped, his wings flaring out in surprise. Our optics met and I beckoned him with my head to come join, but he shook his head and returned his gaze to his datapad.

             _Curse that damn thing,_ I thought as I watched him start to walk back the way he came. Impulsively I shot after him and, getting in his way, spread my arms to stop him from leaving. “Dance with me,” I said.

             “I’m busy,” he said, looking down at his datapad. Without thinking I plucked it out of his grasp and ran around him. As soon as I took it I realized that I’d just done an incredibly stupid thing that was probably going to get me in trouble with him. My immediate thought was to simply return it to him accompanied with an apology, but when all he did was turn in place and narrow his optics, I decided against my better judgement. “Dance with me and I’ll give back,” I said, waving it temptingly.

             “Can I have that in writing?” he asked, and I blinked, not sure if he was teasing or not.

           Regardless, I subspaced his datapad before he could try anything to get it, and then grabbed his hand with both of my own. “Please? It’ll be fun.”

             He seemed reluctant, but allowed me to pull him further into the main hanger where the music was. Immediately I started to move my body to the beat, and after a moment of watching me and dimming his optics, his optics lit back up and he started to dance. It took him a second to get caught up to the rhythm of the song, but once he did I was surprised by just how good a dancer he was. A song I happened to love listening to came on, and we started to dance together as opposed to just dancing by each other’s side. We hopped, spun, dipped, dropped to floor, shook our bodies—

             I was having so much fun I forgot about the outside world and instead danced with a grin on my face. I noticed that Prowl seemed to relax the longer we danced as well, because it wasn’t long before he was smiling too.

             Some cheers and whistles snapped me back to the present and just where we were and I looked around to find that the bots and humans had made a sort of circle around us as we danced. Chromia was grinning like crazy next to Ironhide, and even though I felt a bolt of self-conscious run through me at the realization that we were the center of attention to half the base, I chose to laugh instead of giving into the fear and redirected my full attention back unto dancing with Prowl.

             I was entering and I was leaving. I no longer felt like the person I was before I was before I stumbled across the cube. Nor did I feel like the person who carried the weight of the world on my shoulders. I felt fierce and humble and bundled up inside, like I was at home in this world too.


	35. The Next Prank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_“Lets pull a prank,” Sideswipe said as I sat posed on their couch in front of Sunstreaker_ who was painting me the following morning. I’d spent most of last night alone in my room—tossing and turning, trying to get to sleep—but had eventually gotten up and walked to Prowl’s room where I had bedded with him for the rest of the night. I had bumped into Sideswipe and Sunstreaker this morning who had led me back to their quarters for a painting session and apparently, an interrogation. Neither twin could believe that I’d gotten Prowl to dance with me the day before, despite having seen video footage from other bots that had recorded us dancing. I’d spent most of the morning answering Sideswipe’s questions as Sunstreaker painted me, only speaking occasionally to add his own input.

           “I don’t know,” I said, being careful not to turn my head to look at him. “In case you have forgotten: the last prank we pulled nearly resulted in the offlining of Abby and me.”

           “Yeah, but that was because it was Ironhide,” Sideswipe said. “I was thinking that this time around we should prank Big Bot himself.”

           “I suppose he is less likely to want to offline us once he finds out who pranked him,” I said.

           “So what do you say?” Sideswipe asked.

           “I say that she isn’t going anywhere until our hour is up,” said Sunstreaker, his optics shooting over to me from behind the easel.

           “Of course,” I said.

           After another fifteen minutes had passed and Sideswipe had recited his plans to Sunstreaker and me, I walked with the twins to where Prime’s office was located. I knocked on the door to check if he—or anyone else—was inside. When I received no response, Sideswipe took over and began to input a code on the keypad while his brother and me kept watch on either sides of the hallway. After a couple of seconds he got the door opened—I did not want to ask him how—and we went inside, taking care to close the door behind us. Then we got to work.

           We started by gluing everything that was sitting on his desk in the exact spot that they were in as well as anything else loose that we could find. Then we moved onto the actual furniture, with the twins holding the desk and then the chair upside down while I bolted the legs to the ceiling.

           By the time we were finished the office looked exactly as we had found it, with the only difference being that it was upside down on the ceiling instead being on the floor. We were about to desert the scene, but before we could, the door to the office suddenly slid open and in walked Optimus himself followed by Prowl. Both stopped at the sight of me and the twins standing in, what must have appeared to them to be, a barren room. Prowl narrowed his optics and opened his mouth to say something, only to be beaten to the punch by Optimus who took a step forward and tipped back his head to gaze at the furniture stuck to the ceiling.

           To say I was surprised when he suddenly reached up and swung himself onto his chair so that he was sitting upside down would be an understatement. My mouth fell open as I watched as he took the datapad he was holding and actually seemed to start reading it. With a total deadpan expression he looked at Prowl and motioned to seat across from his desk. “I believe we had some things we needed to discuss?”

           I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my giggle and glanced at Prowl to find that he looked like he was about to glitch out. Optimus snapped his battle mask over his faceplates—likely to keep us from seeing his smile—and seemed as though he was about to say something else, only for lose his foothold on the chair and come crashing to the floor. With a yelp I jumped out of the way, looking down to find both Optimus and Prowl lying on the ground. Smoke was coming from Prowl’s head while Optimus just appeared to be unconscious from the fall.

           _He must have landed on his head_. I stared at them in shock, but didn’t miss the sound of the twins laughing their asses off across the room. Putting my hands on my hips, I levelled the twins with a glare, before walking over to the doorway—stepping carefully over Prowl as I went—and poking my head out to see if any bots happened to be nearby. I didn’t see anyone unfortunately, so I retracted my head and turned to the twins who at this point were still bent over laughing. “Stop laughing and get over here and help me,” I said, bending over to slide my arms under Prowl, being mindful of his doorwings. I hooked my arms under his and hefted his upper body up, so that I would be able to drag him, while the twins stepped over to Optimus and rolled him over. Sideswipe lifted Prime’s upper body whilst Sunstreaker picked up his legs and feet. Together they carried Prime out the doorway toward the med bay with me half dragging Prowl behind them. We got some weird looks from a lot of the humans we passed along the way, including Will and Ironhide, the latter of which came stalking over looking a mix of concerned and irritated as he blocked our path.

           “All right, what happened and where are you taking them?” asked Will, while Ironhide looked accusingly at one twin and then the other. Said twins appeared as if they wanted to run at the sight of a menacing Ironhide, and I rolled my optics, before shifting my hold on Prowl.

           “A prank happened,” I said, “and we’re taking them to med bay.”

           Both twins looked at me like I’d grown two heads, while Ironhide growled at my mention of the word _prank_. Will just shook his head with a tired smile. “I hope this wasn’t your guys intended outcome,” he said, gesturing to an unconscious Prime and Prowl.

           I ducked my head in embarrassment. “This was an accident.”

           “It better have been,” said Ironhide, glaring at both twins like he didn’t really believe my words. Both mechs wilted under his gaze. Will, however, seemed to take pity on them because he waved us off.

           “Better take them to med bay then,” he said, wincing at the sight of the dent on Prime’s helm. Ironhide looked as though he didn’t trust us to even do that much, but took his cue from Lennox and stepped to the side to let us pass. “I’m glad to see that you’re all right, Jane,” Will said as I dragged Prowl past him and Ironhide. I thanked him and continued awkwardly on my way after the twins.

           We passed the Chevy twins in the hallway outside the med bay, who burst out laughing at the sight of us.

           “Oh man, they got ‘em good!” said Skids.

           “They’s in trouble now!” said Mudflap.

           “Shut the frag up!” said Sideswipe, while Sunstreaker growled. All that did was cause the Chevy twins to start laughing harder though. Sunstreaker let go of Prime’s legs and shoved Skids to the wall, pinning him there against his protests, resulting in Sideswipe dropping Prime with a resonating clang onto the floor in order to grab his brother.

           “Boys, please!” I said, watching with growing concern as Skids verbally jabbed Sunstreaker and as Sideswipe had to physically restrain his twin in order to prevent him from beating the slag out of the much smaller bot. I felt Prowl shift in my arms and looked down in time to see him push himself forward onto one knee. He seemed to assess the situation, before springing to his feet and rushing forward to catch one of Sunstreaker’s hands and twist it in an effort to get him under control. Sunstreaker snarled and tried to punch him with his other hand, only for Prowl to duck out of the way and release a form of electric shock with his hand. Sunstreaker fell face-forward onto the floor.

           Right about then, the door to the med bay slid open, revealing an irate looking Ratchet.

           “What the slag is going on out here?” he asked, taking in the unconscious bots on the floor. But Prowl held up a hand, and looked first at Sideswipe who seemed torn between picking up Prime or his brother.

           “Sideswipe, take Sunstreaker down to the brig,” he ordered, before he glanced over at the Chevy twins as if just realizing that they were there. “You two are free to go. I suggest you move along.” He narrowed his optics as he watched them comply to his orders, waiting until all four of them had disappeared down the hallway to lower his wings and reach a hand up to his head.

           “Let me guess,” said Ratchet, walking over to examine Prime who was still on the ground. “The twins pulled another prank?”

           “Actually, I did too,” I said with a wince. I looked worriedly over at Prowl, who was still cradling his helm, and stepped lightly over to him. “Are you okay?” I asked.

           “Just a helm ache,” he said, closing his optics. When he opened them he fixed his icy blue optics on me. “I had hoped you would have learned your lesson from the last prank you pulled with the twins,” he said, and I ducked my head.

           “We didn’t think Prime would actually go along with it like he did,” I said. “We also didn’t intend for you to be there. Or us, for that matter.”

           “Oh really?” he said, raising an optic-ridge. Then he closed his optics again and moved to go into the med bay. His wings were still low on his back and I felt bad for having been yet again been the cause of his crash, knowing as I did that he always suffered helm aches when he awoke afterwards. I started to trail him, but was called back by Ratchet who needed help carrying Optimus into the med bay. I lifted Prime’s legs, and together we carried him to the berth across from where Prowl was sitting with his helm in his hands. I took a seat beside him and without thinking, started to gently stroke one of his wings in an attempt to soothe him.

           “Is Prime going to be okay?” I asked Ratchet, who was working on the dent on the front of Prime’s helm. I hoped that he wasn’t seriously injured.

           “Prime will be fine. The blow _was_ a shock to his systems, but according to my scans he appears to have sustained no permanent damage,” Ratchet responded, and I let out an internal sigh of relief. I hoped Prime wouldn’t be angry when he woke up, though I doubted he would be considering how he had initially reacted to our prank. I still couldn’t believe how he had gone along with it, causing Prowl to glitch out like he did. Poor Prowl.

           Though it was kind of funny how it had all happened.

           I continued my gentle administrations to Prowl’s wing panel; taking notice of how his wings seemed to droop lower the longer I kept up my light brush strokes. At one point, Ratchet glanced over and an expression of surprise seemed to flash over his faceplates. I wasn’t sure why, until I looked at Prowl’s face and found that he was in recharge. I grimaced at the uncomfortable position he was in with his head in his hands and all, before realizing how just tired he must have been in order to just fall asleep like that. I smiled at the sight of him so relaxed, and continued to pet his wing even though he was asleep, loving the way they would occasionally twitch as though he was dreaming. I turned to Ratchet who was watching us with a mixture of shock and amazement and said, “I think I’m going to stuck here for a while.”

           “You think?” He shook his head, before retrieving a pink cube of energon from his subspace and passing it to me. “You do know that he does not fall into recharge like that with just anyone,” he said pointedly, and I blushed. The thought of knowing that Prowl felt comfortable enough around me to relax meant a lot. I sipped from my pink cube, enjoying the taste and the feel of Prowl’s body pressed up against mine as I discreetly scooted closer to him.

           Three quarters of an hour later, Prowl’s wings rose somewhat on his back and he lifted his head, looking around briefly, before turning to me and nestling in closer with his forehead resting on my shoulder. Heat rushed to my face, though I took care not to move lest I jostle him. His wings were once again low on his back and it didn’t take me long to figure out that he was in recharge.

             I never would have pegged Prowl as being the cuddly type, but the longer that I sat there and he remained snuggled up to me without making any attempt to leave the more I was beginning to suspect that either his glitch out had fried his circuits or that he was in fact a cuddly bot when extremely tired. I glanced over at Ratchet who was pretending not to pay attention and asked whether all Praxians were like Prowl or if he had fried his circuits.

             “His circuits are fine. Praxians are known for being drawn to sources of heat when in recharge,” he responded, and I found that fact adorable for some reason as I gazed down at Prowl whose arms were wrapped around my waist as he slept.

             I snuggled into him then and we stayed like that until he awoke an hour later. Prime had already come online and left the med bay, thankfully saying only that I, along with the twins, were responsible for returning everything in his office back to the way we had found it. He also smiled at the sight of Prowl and me before turning to leave. Prowl lifted his head a little while later and his blue optics met mine for a second before glanced at his arms that were wrapped around my waist and seemed to come unto himself. He pulled backwards so fast that his body actually lifted from off the berth, causing him to plummet onto his aft onto the floor.

             I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. I leaned over with my arms around my stomach, I was laughing so hard. Even Ratchet cracked a smile. Prowl, for the most part, looked like he wanted to sink into the ground.

           “Oh, hunny, don’t feel bad. You can cuddle up to me anytime you want,” I said in a false sultry tone. I didn’t miss how Prowl’s cooling fans went up a notch, though he kept his expression purposely blank as he accepted Ratchet’s hand to help him to his feet, and I laughed. God, it felt good to laugh. Really laugh.


	36. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for late update. I've been spending most of my free time gaming lol
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_The next morning found me hiking away alone, climbing down the short path that led_ away from the main hanger to the beach and trying not to drag my feet in the sand. I was still tired from having laid awake for most of last night on my berth. I hadn’t, for some reason, been able to recharge until towards the early hours of morning. I could have gone to Prowl, but I hadn’t wanted to bother him, knowing as I did that he was probably working or getting some much needed recharge. I had thought that coming out here would freshen me up some, but considering that I was still blurry eyed with sleep, I doubted that it was going to work. Stopping a moment, I pulled off my boots one by one and continued barefoot through the pebbly sand. By the time I slid down the embankment crossing over to the beach two minutes later, I was feeling wider-awake and I felt the silence of the desolate beach descend upon me.

            It felt good to be alone. It felt spectacular. A breeze blew strands of hair into my face, but the sun was warm and bright, the sky bluer than ever. The sandy trail of the beach opened up into a miles-wide view of ocean and then closed further away into dense woods. I walked for ten minutes without pause along the shoreline in the wet sand, before stopping to sit in the sand away from the dampness. I dropped the boots I was carrying and took out the _Jane Eyre_ datapad from where it was sat in the nook of my arm. I had just finished rereading it yesterday for what was probably the hundredth time, but I onlined it anyway and skimmed the last chapter again, letting myself go all the way to the end. I was in love with this book and also saddened by it. It made me think of how my life had become a before and after, with this _Jane Eyre_ novel belonging to the before. I didn’t know how living on a military base had come to feel like my normal life, but it had. When I thought of _home_ I no longer imagined my grandparents farm. Instead I saw my friends here at base and a certain black and white police bot. Now it was the idea of leaving them behind that scared me.

             I went to the ocean and squatted down and splashed my face. Then I scooped up a handful of water and stared at my blurry reflection, taking note of my blue eyes and golden hair. Where were my grandparents? I wondered. I’d carried their weight on my shoulders for so long, staggering beneath their weight.

             _Inside the person looking back at me_ , I let myself think.

             And something inside me released.

 

 

I slept on my back on the beach, not wanting to head back to my room and block out the warmth of the sunlight shining on my face. It was now early afternoon, I’d been out here since seven this morning, napping and walking. I woke around noon to the vague sensation that something was poking me in the leg. Since I had rolled up my pants, it was on my bare leg and it wasn’t long before the poking sensation moved up to the top of shin. I opened my eyes and looked tiredly down at where the poking was emitting from on my lower leg whereupon I immediately froze.

             A small crab was perched on the top of my shin.

             It was the approximate size of a potato chip. It was no longer climbing but sat completely still on my leg, its shell and claws shiny in the sunlight, before it started to crawl sideways across my skin again, its tiny legs poking me with each step.

             Within an instant, I was hopping, scrambling, leaping, and running across the sand in my bare feet, terrified of the harmless crab. Finally safe, I stood watching it from the crab-free perimeter, the sideways motion of its little shell apparent in the blazing sun. I walked wearily back; keeping my eyes pinned for it and for any other crustaceans, and grabbed my boots from where I’d left them stranded in the sand. I checked the insides for any crabs, before slipping my socks and then them back on. I patted my hands over the rest of my body and my hair, making sure that there really were no more crabs on me anywhere.

             Afterwards, I pulled out an energon cube and stood drinking it. I felt near the verge of tears, not because of the crab, but because I knew that no matter how much I wanted to consume some of my favourite human foods, I never could. My desire for something aside from energon had grown so large that it was more than a longing. It was more like a physical reaching limb growing from my gut. I knew I would not be able to fall back asleep with this entity filling my gut, so once I had drank half of the cube I was holding, I put it back in subspace and walked back along the shore to the path the led to the main hanger. I transformed up once I was clear of the sand.

             I wasn’t really thinking of where I was going; I just wandered aimlessly down the halls until I reached Prowl’s office. I put my hand to the button that would notify him of my presence outside the door, but didn’t press it. I wanted to, but I also didn’t want to disturb him in case he was in the middle of something important. I dropped my hand and turned to walk away when just then Prowl appeared from around the corner holding a datapad and a cube of pink energon. He appeared to be absorbed in whatever he was reading, but looked up as he approached me and came to a stop in front of me.

             “Is there something I can help you with, Jane?” he asked, tilting his head.

             I looked down at the cube he was holding and shook my head wistfully. “Not really,” I said. I continued to stare at the pink substance, watching as he followed my gaze down to his cube and as a look of understanding flashed across his features. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t him offering me his cube. “No, I—”

             “Try it,” he said, calmly holding it out to me.

             I took it from him hesitantly, knowing that it was the same energon I already had in my subspace, and took a small sip. Immediately my optics widened. It was by far the best energon I had ever tasted, being remarkably sweeter than that of what I drank. I tipped it back and took another long sip, before remembering that it wasn’t my cube and reluctantly handing it back to him. Prowl looked amused as he took it back from me.

           “What is that?” I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I fought the urge to drool at the sight of the energon while I watched him take a sip of it, my cravings for human food suddenly forgotten and replaced with the intense desire for more of whatever energon he was drinking.

             “It is sweet energon,” he said with a small smile. “I have some stashed away in my office.” He tucked his datapad under his arm as he typed a code into the pad next to the door. “Would you care for a cube?” he asked, turning to look at me. I nodded vigorously, and he laughed. I paused long enough to register a sound I never thought I would hear, taking in the beautiful musical ring to it. Prowl, however, continued on into his office, walking around his desk to open a drawer after he deposited his cube and datapad on top of it. I walked in more slowly as I watched Prowl retrieve a cube from his drawer and then pour some of it out into his nearly empty cube sitting on his desk and top it off with some pink energon from another cube he pulled from his desk drawer. Finally he mixed it together with an Autobot sized spoon, handing me the new cube that was mostly plain energon mixed with a bit of what I guessed was sweet energon while he stirred up his half finished one.

             I took a sip. It tasted just as good as the one he had let me taste just a minute before. It tasted better even. “Wow,” I said as my optics brightened.

             “I’m glad you like it,” Prowl said as he took a seat in his chair and resumed his reading. I stood there for a few minutes silently cradling my cube and sipping from it every so often, savouring the taste. I watched as Prowl read from his datapad, once in a while sipping from his cube. His desk was very neat and orderly looking with the only being exception the stack of datapads sitting on the corner. I resisted the urge to pick one up and read it and instead walked around the desk and sat down on the edge in front of Prowl. His wing twitched and he looked up to narrow his optics at me. “Get off my desk,” he said, looking irritated all of a sudden. My fault, I knew he hated bots sitting on his desk. Getting an idea suddenly, I nodded and slid off only to climb into Prowl’s lap. I was surprised he let me. I lay with my head against his chest and listened to the thrumming of his spark so near to mine.

             I couldn’t help but wonder what his spark looked like. I gently ran my fingers across the seams in his armour and felt him shiver slightly. I blinked, not sure what I had done exactly, before running my fingers along the same spot a little more firmly. His hand shot up to grab my wrist and when I tipped my head back I was thrown off guard by the burning intensity of his optics. My mouth opened to say something, but I found suddenly that I couldn’t speak. Without thinking, I leaned in closer and ever so lightly brushed my metallic lips against his. Obviously I knew that Cybertronians didn’t kiss, but having previously been a human I suppose that it was just instinctual to me. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted—

             “I love you,” I said without thinking. Then I froze, realizing exactly what I had just blurted out. Without waiting to hear his response, which I knew without a doubt would be a rejection; I jumped up and bolted to the door and out into the hallway. I ignored the sound of metal footsteps running after me, I just knew I had to get away. I raced all the way to the main hanger, ignoring the surprised stares of the soldiers and bots, intending to run all the way to the beach where I would be alone. Perhaps I should have run to my room, but the four walls would have driven me crazy. What I needed was open space—

             A hand caught my wrist before I could reach the end of the hanger, and I spun to find Prowl standing there with brightened optics. I struggled to get out of his grip, wanting nothing more than to flee from the inevitable humiliation that was headed my way. But to my surprise he didn’t let me go. If anything he pulled me closer to his chassis. I closed my optics; unable to stand being so near to something I knew would never be mine.

             “Jane—” he said after we had stood there for a few moments.

             “Don’t. Please don’t,” I said. “I know you don’t feel the same way about me. It’s fine.” I leaned my head against his chest. “Just please let me go so I can be alone for a bit.” I was embarrassed not only because of what I had said, but also due to the tears that had sprung to my optics as I struggled. I could sense the stares of almost every bot and human in the hanger, which was even more humiliating.

             “I love you,” he said quietly, and my head snapped up so fast I feared I might have broken it. I could hear his cooling fans and knew he was just as embarrassed as I was, but his optics meet mine without hesitation. “I’m not the best when it comes to explaining or dealing with my emotions, but—” He bent his head down and kissed me lightly. “—I do love you.”

             I could hardly believe my ears. Cheers erupted from around us, but for once I could care less whether people were watching us or not. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him as well as I was able with a pair of metal lips, loving the feeling of his hands as they came up to rest just above my hips as he pulled me flush against him. By the time I pulled back, both of our cooling fans had kicked into high gear, but we were smiling as we stood there looking into each other’s optics. It was right about then that I heard someone whistle and remembered then just where we were. I chanced a quick glance around and startled when I saw that we were indeed the center of attention; Chromia was standing next to Ironhide and waved when she saw me looking at her. Somehow I just knew that she was the one who had whistled at us. Flushing with embarrassment, I ducked my head before glancing shyly back at Prowl, who narrowed his optics at our spectators before wordlessly leading me out of the hanger and towards the beach.

             We walked down the sandy trail all the way to the shore where we stood for a few minutes before turning and walking hand in hand along the shoreline.

             There was so much that I wanted to ask him, so much I wanted to know about him, but for some reason couldn’t bring myself to speak. We were quiet and peaceful together, strolling leisurely through the sand until the trail leading back to the main hanger was barely visible in the distance. There we stopped and stood and I leaned against him as we stared at the rolling waves. This felt more intimate than kissing or talking would have been, and I found myself closing my optics, listening to the roar of the ocean.


	37. Jazz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I extended this chapter instead of turning it into a new one. 
> 
> Wow I feel as though I disappeared for quite some time. Despite it being only a couple of weeks, I think. Sorry for vanishing, but life has been throwing bricks at me lately. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I walked giddily out into the night, my feet leaving large imprints in the sand as I went._ I’d decided to head down to the beach for another midnight stroll, as I was unable to recharge. This time it wasn’t due to the nightmares that plagued my sleep, however. I kept thinking back to Prowl’s confession earlier this afternoon. I still could hardly believe that I had blunted out my feelings to him like that—or that he had admitted to feeling the same! I suppose part of me had assumed that I would always be alone romantically. Then again—a lot of things had happened as of late that I had never in a million years thought would. But to think—

             I had a mate.

             Did I have a mate? I walked the through warm sand second-guessing myself. Maybe his confession meant nothing, after all. Maybe I’d misheard him. Maybe it was ridiculous to automatically assume that because we had both confessed that we now were mates. We weren’t by any means sparkmates. But I was his intended now, was I not? He had kissed my hand after walking me back to hanger from the beach—that had to have meant something, right? I rubbed my left hand, imagining the feel of his metallic lips on the back of it. The thought had my cooling fans switching up a couple of notches, and I stopped, turned, holding my hand, staring out at the sea. The water was calm and I found myself mesmerized by the rippling surface, shimmering in the moonlight. I put my hand over where my necklace would be.

             I wanted nothing more than to see Prowl again, but was afraid to disturb him in case he was finally getting some much-needed rest. It would have to wait until the morning, I supposed. I stared at the moon, suddenly feeling the urge to sprint across the beach, overwhelmed as I was by the vastness above and all around me. It was a star-speckled sky encompassing my head. I stretched out my arms, trying to capture it all. Then I turned and broke into a run across the shoreline, pushing myself faster and faster, until I was suddenly I was transforming and running on all fours across the sand.

             It took me a moment to realize that I was now a metallic horse, but once I did I snorted and came to a sliding stop in surprise at having taken this form—at even being _able_ to take this form. I wondered briefly about what I looked like, until it hit me that I’d been riding Astraea the time I had first encountered the cube and gotten zapped. It made sense then that I would resemble her in terms of what I looked like: a metallic version of an Arabian mare.

             I took a couple of tentative steps forward, taking note of the odd feeling that bending my knees now brought as unaccustomed as I was to this new body. I picked up speed after a few minutes of just walking around. Soon I was trotting; and before I knew it I was galloping down the shoreline, my metal hooves eating up the ground. My spark soared. Something about galloping wildly like this reminded me of Astraea and the feeling of complete freedom I used to feel whenever I rode her. I felt lighter somehow, like my body was made of feather instead of metal.

              I practised running across the beach until two, when I transformed back into my bipedal mode and walked back up the sandy trail to the main hanger. I no longer felt nervous about visiting Prowl and whether or not he would want to see me. I just wanted to see him.

             I walked down the halls until I reached his quarters. I rapped my knuckles on the door after only a slight hesitation; unsure of whether he _really_ was in recharge. A moment later, the door slide open to reveal a surprised looking Prowl.

             “Mind if I stay here tonight?” I asked. Standing beside him at last, I felt all my nervousness about whether or not he’d want to see me vanish, and had to resist the urge to tackle him in a hug.

             He lifted a brow, but said nothing and backed up to let me in. I immediately rushed over to sit on the berth near the far wall, only to blush when he walked over more calmly. I ducked my head and parted my lips to say something, but the words dried on my tongue when I saw how utterly exhausted he looked. He must’ve either been working late at his desk or I had in fact woken him from his recharge. I felt bad regardless.

             “Come here,” I said, scotching backwards until I was sitting on my knees near the wall on the berth and then opening my arms. Prowl looked as though he wanted to say something, but after a moment he walked over with a word and took a seat on the edge of the berth, looking tired and a little lost at what it was I wanted. I laughed and patted my lap. “Put your head here,” I said. He blinked and then did so slowly, as though he was unsure whether or not I would change my mind. He lay down on his stomach with his head on my lap and his doorwings flared out behind him.

             Cautiously he set his arms on either side of my lower hips and I reached out with a hand and stroked the outer panel on one of his wings, feeling him grow rigid for a moment and then gradually relax, as my hands ran slowly up his monochrome wing and then down again, loving the feel of his gorgeous frame against mine.

               Without thinking I started to hum softly, listening as his engine died down to almost nothing, watching as his wings drooped lower and lower, knowing that I was lulling him to sleep. I started to think that he _was_ asleep until he suddenly shifted off of my lap and shimmied backwards until he was lying on his side on the berth. He placed his head on his hand and wordlessly patted the space next to him with a faint smile. I crawled over to him and cuddled into his chest plating, loving being so close to his spark. I sighed happily and closed my optics. Before I drifted off completely, I asked, “Can I recharge by your side every night from now on?”

               “You may,” he whispered, his hand rubbing small circles on my back plating.

 

The next morning I onlined my optics to find the spot next to me empty, with Prowl instead sitting across the room at his desk looking over a stack of datapads. I stood and stretched luxuriously, before stepping over to him.

               “That one is for you,” Prowl said, without looking up from his datapad. I saw a pair of pink energon cubes sitting on the desk beside the stack of datapads, one of which was closer of to me than the other, and so I picked it up and took a small sip, my optics brightening at the fact that it had sweet energon in it. While I drank, Prowl continued to read and methodically type into the datapad he was reading. I recalled the hologram projector that I’d found on his desk a while back containing the image of him and another bot, and wondered briefly if it was still there. Without thinking, I reached out and plucked the projector up from behind the stack of datapads, causing Prowl to look up from what he was doing to narrow his optics at me.

               “I would prefer you return that back to where you just got it from,” he said; only to narrow his optics into even smaller slits when I ducked my head sheepishly. “You’ve already seen what is on it,” he said, but not as a question.

              “Who is he?” I asked as I turned on the hologram to reveal a slightly different looking Prowl and the silver bot wearing a visor. I thought of asking him if the bot in the projector was actually his brother, but the missing doorwings clearly stated that he was not.

               For a few seconds, Prowl didn’t answer but stared mutely at the hologram. I didn’t push him but waited patiently for him to decide whether he wanted to divulge this information to me or not.

               “Jazz,” he said finally, still looking at the projector. “We grew up together in Praxus.”

               “Jazz?” I asked, and he nodded. I looked at the grinning bot in the hologram and decided that the name suited him. “But he doesn’t have any doorwings,” I said as though it mattered.

               “Jazz was only part Praxian. His femme creator was Praxian and so he was raised in Praxus.” He smiled then as though remembering some distant memory. “I spent most of my free time in time the Crystal Gardens, wandering or reading. One morning, while I was wandering around, I happened to encounter a trio of Praxians picking on a wingless bot. I was already training to be an Enforcer at the time and so I stepped in an attempt to break up the group.”

               “Good. I hope you showed them a thing or two,” I said, and he laughed.

               “No, actually, I had only just started my training and could barely fight.” He shook his head. “I ended up with a broken nose plate despite my best efforts, and the bot I stepped in to rescue wound up being the one to defend me. That bot was Jazz. He took to following me around afterwards, despite my antisocial behaviour.”

               I blinked and examined the silver bot in the hologram, thinking he must have been as friendly as he looked. “What was he like?” I asked, not missing how he spoke in the past tense whenever he referred to Jazz.

               “Self-possessed, calm, collected,” Prowl said, his smile fading as he stared at the hologram image of Jazz. “He became the head of Special Operations in the army.” He reached out and took the projector from me, holding it in one hand, running his thumb over the power button. For a moment, I thought he was going to turn it off, but he only continued to stare emotionlessly at the hologram.

               “ _What happened to him_?” I asked softly in Praxian.

               “ _He was offlined by Megatron_ ,” he answered, after a long moment. He seemed to examine the face of his friend one last time, before his optics became unreadable and hard, and he shut off the projector, returning it to the back of his desk.

               “ _I’m so sorry_ ,” I said, not knowing what else to say. I started to reach towards him, but he stood up and collected our empty energon cubes and disposed of them. I watched him, taking note of the stiff way he carried himself and his wings. Without thinking, I walked over and wrapped my arms around his torso from behind, resting my head against his back between his doorwings. He tensed, but didn’t try to move away from me, and after a few minutes, I felt him gradually relax. “ _I know this might not sound like much, but I promise you_ can _trust me_ ,” I whispered.

               Prowl didn’t say anything, but turned around so that he was looking down at me, his blue optics finding mine. He leaned forward and surprised me by tipping my chin up gently with a hand and kissing me as well as our metal lips would allow. He pulled away after a moment though, much to my disappointment.

               “I believe you have a check up appointment with Ratchet,” he said.

               I nodded and turned to go, but not before reaching out to quickly, yet gently, run my hand against his outer doorwing panel, much to his surprise. I let out a high-pitched shriek as he pretended to lunge at me and fled out of his room into the hall heading towards the med bay, laughing the entire way.

               I slowed down once I reached the med bay door and entered to find Ratchet. He appeared from the back room and gestured with his hand for me to sit on one of the berths. “This should only take a moment,” he said.

               I took a seat and immediately felt the tingle of a scan run through me before Ratchet took my wrist and began to physically examine it. The former pain I had felt was absent, minusing a dull ache that appeared whenever I used it for too long. As I sat there, answering Ratchet’s questions, I couldn’t help but think of the grinning bot I had seen in the hologram with Prowl. I wondered what had happened to him.

              “Ratchet, did you ever meet a mech named Jazz?” I asked, staring at my feet. I didn’t look, but could feel Ratchet’s head snap up in surprise. I lifted my head to see his mouth open and then close as a look of understanding dawned across his face.

              “Prowl told you,” he said, but not as a question.

               I nodded. “He did. But only because I found an old hologram projector on his desk containing a hologram of him and Jazz together, I think.” I paused, feeling the need to lick my lips despite them being made of metal and therefore unable to chap. “Ratchet, what happened to Jazz? How did he die?” I asked.

               Ratchet vented and realized my wrist that he was holding. “He was torn in half by Megatron during a battle, not long after we arrived on Earth. I did my best to repair his broken frame, but the damage to his spark chamber was too extensive.” He lowered his head. “I couldn’t save him.”

               Without thinking, I stood up and wrapped my arms around his stomach, the best I could do considering he was so much taller than I was. “It wasn’t your fault he offlined,” I said, knowing without a doubt that Ratchet had done everything he could to save Jazz.

               “Even so, I cannot help but feel partly to blame for his death,” he said, and I leaned back to find a rather haunted look in his optics. I knew then that no matter what I said to him he would continue to blame himself regardless.

               “Is that what you’ve been working on in the back room?” I asked quietly. I’m not sure what made me ask this, but something in the back of my mind urged me to at least make mention of the back room that he so often disappeared into. His mouth once again fell open in surprise, and I inwardly startled as it hit me that that may be _exactly_ what he was working on. “You’re still repairing his frame,” I said, but more as a statement than a question.

               “I am.” He nodded. “I have repaired his frame to the best of my abilities.”

               “Why?” I asked in a quiet voice, my optics capturing his in a searching look.

               “It was necessary,” he said, rubbing his hand tiredly over his faceplates. “The scans I conducted on his upper frame after his alleged demise detected a faint spark pulse—”

              “Hold on,” I said, cutting him off as my optics searched his for any signs that he was lying. “Are you saying that Jazz is actually _alive_?”

               He hesitated, before nodding.

               “Do the others know?” I asked. I could tell he knew what I was really asking: when I said the others, I was really referring to Prowl.

               “Aside from Optimus and myself, no,” he said, and at my disbelieving look, he vented. “Jazz is unstable. The probability of him ever coming online is virtually non-existent at this point, despite the extensive repairs I have done to his frame. Prowl was incredibly close to Jazz; and I do not want to risk informing him that Jazz is alive only for Jazz to ultimately succumb to his injuries.” His optics narrowed in a sharp look that suggested he didn’t want me to tell Prowl either, and I stared my hands as I thought about how much I didn’t want to keep something like this from him, despite realizing that Ratchet was right. He already carried the weight of Jazz’s death. If he were to find out that Jazz was actually alive only for Jazz to die, I shuddered to think of how I would feel in that kind of situation.

               “Can I see him?” I asked. I sensed that he was about to refuse and caught his optic. “Please?”

               He vented and wordlessly led me towards the backroom, stopping outside the door to input a code, before walking inside. I followed him in more slowly, taking note of the smallness of the room in relation the size of the front of the med bay and started when I saw a silver bot laying motionlessly on a berth near the center of the room, attached to numerous wires that I’m guessing monitored his spark pulse and kept him stable.

               I was shocked how much smaller the bot looked than in the hologram, with him being about three feet smaller than I was. Another thing I found striking was the fact that I could see his optics, though they were dark. I walked over to him without really thinking about it and stared down at his face, recalling the grinning bot I had seen in the hologram. I took his hand and squeezed it gently, knowing full well that he wasn’t aware of me doing so, but wanting to hold it anyway.

               “If you need me I’ll be out front,” Ratchet said, leaving me alone with Jazz.

               As I stood there, holding his hand, I realized that his fingers felt pointed and examined his hand to find that he had claws. I ran my thumb over his claws gently, feeling a mix of emotions. More than anything I wanted to do something to help, but what could I do? I wasn’t a medic. I didn’t have any training. Besides Ratchet, in my opinion, was the best there was. If he couldn’t do anything more for Jazz, then what good was I?

               I stared at the armour over where his spark would be, and before I was even aware of what I was doing, I had reached out and laid my hand on top of it. I shut my optics and felt for any energy coming from his spark pulse, detecting strangely a tiny tendril of feeling. I gasped and retracted my hand, unsure of what I had just felt. Still, the desire to help drove me on and without stopping to think of what I was doing, I placed my hand back over his spark and felt for that small wisp, holding onto it once I found it. It was weak, barely there, but I held on regardless, somehow knowing that it was his spark.

               Please, Primus, let him be okay!

               All at once heat blossomed in my chest and I sent it down toward my hand toward Jazz’s spark. I closed my optics, seeing a fully functional Jazz in my processor despite having never met him, and willed his spark to grow stronger.

               Immediately something shot out of my hand and into Jazz’s frame, jolting it. I fell backwards onto my rump as the body convulsed, sudden fatigue washing over me as I clutched my hand. I heard footsteps and looked up just in time to see Ratchet rush into the room.

               “What the slag is going on in—” Ratchet’s yell was cut off as Jazz, with a loud gasp, shot into a sitting position. His optics, formerly black and lifeless, a bright blue just like they had been in the hologram.

               For a minute the room was dead silent. So silent you could hear a pin drop. Ratchet stared, open mouthed, at Jazz, who looked around, first taking in the room he was in, then taking in Ratchet, and then down to me with wide optics.

               “Whoa.” He slowly and carefully got off the berth, before bending down to offer me a hand up. “Someone want to tell meh what happened?” He looked from me to Ratchet and then to me again. “Hey there, lil lady.”

              I collapsed in his arms.


	38. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: for those who aren't aware, I extended the last chapter.
> 
> RE EDIT: I extended this chapter.
> 
> Sorry for the shorter chapter this time around, but as I said the length varies depending on what occurs in each chapter. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I woke two hours later to find myself on a metal berth in med bay. Jolt was nearby and_ he rushed over to scan me when I slowly sat up, clutching my hand against my chest like I had burnt it. My memory was hazy and when I glanced at Jolt I shrieked to find that I was able to see his spark where it was in his chest—or at least, see the burning glow of it.

           Jolt—the poor bot—tried his best to calm me down once I started screeching, but all I could focus on was his spark and the fact that I could see it, or sense it, when I couldn’t before. It’s like all my senses were on high alert and I could feel the sparks of those around me and on the base and the more I focused on it, the more sparks I could sense, and the more sparks I could sense, the more I started to panic. I pressed myself flat against the wall on the berth and covered my optics with my hands in an attempt to block out everything I was seeing. My spark was pulsing so fast I thought it might burst, and it wasn’t long before Ratchet burst in through the med bay doors and rushed toward me—the only reason that I knew it was him being the fact that I was still able to sense the sparks despite my optics being closed and covered. Prowl also burst in, but I remained frozen in my position against the wall, whimpering as I sensed more sparks coming toward the med bay.

           “Jane, femme, you need to calm down,” Ratchet said in a voice that seemed too loud. I shied away from him, knowing his position without needing to look, and only pressed closer against the wall.

           More sparks appeared in the doorway and then drifted closer to the berth that I was on, pushing me near the verge of hysterics as my sensors went ballistic.

           “What’s goin on?” asked Jazz, from his position near the foot of the berth. I felt concern emitting from his spark and might have felt touched that I had I been in my right state of mind. As it was, I was too aware of everything around me for it to have an effect on me.

           “I don’t know,” responded Ratchet. “My scans indicate that her sensors are far above the normal range—so much so that I am unable to get an exact reading.” I saw him shake his head as his hand transformed into a needle. “I have no choice but to sedate her.” My sensors pinged that I was in immediate danger and without pausing to consider just _who_ exactly was that was coming at me with a needle, I transformed down into a human and ran across the berth, feeling the surprise of the bots as I ran, and transformed back up in time before my feet hit the ground. I had almost reached the door when someone grabbed me from behind. Without thinking, I spun quicker than I thought was possible for my size and jabbed my fingers toward his optics. My attacker ducked at the same he took a step in closer, throwing me momentarily off-balance.

           However, before he could grab me, I transformed down and dashed between his legs, transforming back up as soon as I was behind him, and thrusting my fingers into the hinge of one of his doorwings—

           Wait . . . doorwings?

           My pause was all apparently my attacker needed, because in less than a split-second my back was pinned to his chest. My chest heaved as my cooling fans roared in my audios. It took me a second to register fully what had just happened, but when I did, my optics widened as I realized that it was Prowl I had just attacked. Ironhide, Ratchet, Jolt, Optimus, and Jazz were all staring at me in shock—well, Ironhide had his cannons out, but that really didn’t surprise me in the least. I started to panic once it hit me that I had literally _attacked_ Prowl and the arms around me tightened ever so slightly, be it to reassure me or restrain me I couldn’t quite tell. But the heat that was still in my chest began to arise yet again, demanding that I fight or flee. I started to shake as I fought down the fire that was blazing in my chest—

           “ _Jane, you need to relax_ ,” Prowl said in a quiet voice. I tried but my processor kept going back to the sparks and the bodies that were around me as though I were in danger. “ _Focus on me_ ,” he said gently.

           Closing my optics, I zoned in on the spark that was directly behind mine. I felt concern wash over me like a wash, and all at once I knew that it was him that I was feeling. I focused on the thrumming of his spark and allowed myself to be soothed by it’s gentle rhythm. Relief washed over me then, and the arms around me loosened slightly as I relaxed. The heat in my chest dissipated until it was no longer a palpable thing within me, and I opened my optics to find that everything surrounding me had returned to normal.

             My relief must have been obvious because the arms around me disappeared. I felt myself being scanned and then Ratchet quickly passed by to get to Prowl, who I could hear venting heavily behind me. I remembered then that I had struck a blow to one of his doorwings and I spun around with my hand covering my mouth in time to catch Prowl hiss at Ratchet, who released the doorwing he was holding. I went to step towards him, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me and I looked over to find Jazz standing beside me with his visor on.

             “Prowler don’ like no bot touching his wings,” Jazz said in a voice that was as smooth as it was musical. “Best to let doc-bot handle things.” I opened my to answer him, but another roar from Prowl snapped my attention back to what was going on a few feet away from us. Ratchet was trying to sedate a resisting Prowl; whose wing I could see was sparking from where I had tore at it in the hinge.

             “He trusts me,” I said, glancing quickly at Jazz.

             Besides, I thought, I owe it to him to at least _try_. I felt sick just thinking about what I had done, knowing as I did just how sensitive his doorwings were.

             I stepped over to Prowl, catching Ratchet’s optic as I did, and took his hand in my own. Prowl stopped struggling at my touch, but remained tense and avoidant of Ratchet. I rubbed my thumb over the back of his hand in an attempt to soothe him, before stepping in close, fully aware that I was invading his personal space by doing so. “ _Come take a seat_ ,” I said, pulling him over to one of the berths. My hope was that by speaking in Praxian it would somehow make him more inclined to obey. When he didn’t move right away, I continued to tug gently on his hand until he finally allowed himself to be led toward the berth without complaint.

             I got him to sit, taking note of the stiff way he was carrying his wings. Without thinking, I reached over and ever so gently stroked the wing closest to me. Prowl let me surprisingly, with only a slight flinch as I must have caught him off guard. I didn’t react to it and continued my gentle administrations until he had calmed enough that his wings were no longer trembling.

             I glanced over and caught Ratchet’s optic again, beckoning him over with my head, thinking that Prowl would let him approach now. But as soon as Ratchet took a step in our direction, Prowl’s head snapped up and returned to glaring at Ratchet. I didn’t know what to do. Prowl wasn’t behaving like his usual, logical self.

             “ _Prowl, listen to me_ ,” I said, stroking his wing softly to draw his attention back to me. “ _Ratchet isn’t going to hurt you. He just wants to help_.”

             “ _Ah don’ want him near meh,_ ” Prowl said, still glaring stiffly at Ratchet. _“Every time ah sustain a wing injury he breaks his promise not to sedate meh.”_ I noticed that he was speaking with an accent, something he only tended to do when he was truly riled up and made a silent note to ask him about it later. For now, my primary focus was on getting his doorwing tended to.

             “ _What if I took a look at your wing instead_?” I suggested, but he made no reply. He only turned to face me with his optics narrowed as though he were unsure as to whether I was conspiring with Ratchet or not. “ _I promise not to let Ratchet near you unless you okay it first_ ,” I added, meeting his blue optics.

             He stared at me silently for a few seconds longer, before nodding stiffly. “ _Very well. But I’m holding you to your word.”_

             I nodded, giving his hand a final squeeze, before crawling onto the berth and positioning myself on my knees behind him. His wings were trembling again, though not as badly, and I stroked one of his wings reassuringly before examining the injury to his hinge. It was still sparking and looked painful. I noticed that a few of the wires and an energon line had been severed, with blue energon seeping from the wound, and I frowned as I realized that I had no idea how to even start.

             “ _Prowl, I think Ratchet really needs to take a look at this. Will you please let him approach_?” I asked. I laid a hand against the flat of his back and he nodded after a pause. I glanced at Ratchet then and nodded for him to approach, keeping my hand on Prowl, whose wings flattened, much like a cat would flatten their ears, and slid over to lend Ratchet access to the injury.

             Ratchet was careful about tending to the sparking wound, and I kept a hand on the top of Prowl’s doorwing, holding it in place despite his continual flinches and hissing. It pained me to do so, knowing as I did the agony that he was likely in, but it was necessary so I held firmly onto his wing throughout the procedure until Ratchet was finished. Only then did I release him in order to more gently rub his back while he leaned over with his face in his hands, looking all in all a little worse for wear.

             I looked up then, surprised and embarrassed, to find that the other bots were still in the room and were watching us with brightened optics.

             The med bay descended into silence then, with the only sound being the whir of my cooling fans, which I was certain everyone could hear; Jazz was grinning, and I was briefly reminded of the hologram containing him and Prowl. I recalled then, just what I had done in bringing Jazz more or less back to life and in being able to see the sparks of all the bots on base. I opened my mouth to say something, but was hit with a sudden wave of fatigue that had apparently been overridden during my attempt to settle Prowl down. I wanted to remain online, but I was so tired.

             I shifted so that I was lying against the flat of Prowl’s back and laced my fingers together so that my hold around his chest was secure. Prowl must have been in recharge himself, because he didn’t react at all to my cuddling up against him in public. I lay my head against him and closed my optics, and then recharge set in.

 

Rebooting . . .

             I onlined my optics an hour or so later to find myself still snuggled up to the back of Prowl, the gentle thrumming of his spark pulsing next to my head, my hands interlocked at his chest plates. I wanted more than anything to just remain pressed against him like this, he was so very comfortable, but my tank was signalling that it was getting low. I needed energon.

             I tried to remember back to the last time I had eaten and recalled that it had been earlier this morning with Prowl. I really didn’t feel like moving from my comfy position, but nevertheless I lifted my head and unlocked my fingers from where they were around Prowl’s chest. I noticed as I reluctantly leaned back that Prowl was still in recharge—I could tell because not only did he not react to me moving away from him, his doorwings were also low and relaxed on his back, twitching occasionally as they did whenever he was asleep. I continued to stare at his monochrome back for a few minutes until a cube of pink energon was presented to me. I started to find that Ratchet was standing next to the berth with a cube in his extended hand.

             “Please tell me you haven’t been standing there the entire time,” I said, taking the offered cube once I’d recovered. I took a small sip, finding it plain compared the cube Prowl had made for me this morning. I drank it regardless.

             Ratchet raised an optic-ridge. “Actually, no. After I scanned you and Prowl to make sure that neither of you had collapsed due to a malfunction, I deemed it better to let you both recharge in peace while I had a meeting with Optimus and the others. I figured you would be low on fuel once you onlined and had a cube here waiting for you in the case that you woke up before I arrived back.”

             I swallowed, not quite feeling up to talking about what had happened. Instead I glanced worriedly over at Prowl. “Is he going to be alright?” I asked.

             Ratchet nodded. “Prowl will be fine. Doorwing injuries tend to take a lot out of him, so he is likely to keep recharging for some time.”

             I breathed a silent sigh of relief, though my spark ached at the knowledge that I was the root cause of his suffering. I stared at Prowl’s back for a few minutes while Ratchet stood there patiently. Finally, I asked, “What happened to me, Ratchet?”

             “I was hoping you could tell me.”

             “I don’t know. I woke up, looked over at Jolt and could see his spark—”

             Ratchet’s head snapped up. “You saw his spark?”

             I shook my head. “No it’s more like . . .” I struggled to find a word that fit what I had felt, but my mind came up empty. “I could see a glow,” I said finally.

             Ratchet nodded. “It’s entirely possible, considering the limitless power of the AllSpark, that your revival of Jazz may have momentarily heightened your sensors.”

             I nodded, thinking that he was right. I didn’t bother to tell him that I had also been able to sense the feelings of the bots around me, which was part of the reason I had been so overwhelmed. Then again, this was the AllSpark we were talking about. I supposed that anything was possible. Prowl’s wing twitched in his recharge again and I absentmindedly stroked his outer wing as I thought over what had happened in my mind’s eye.

             When I looked back up, Ratchet was watching me interest, a rather thoughtful expression on his faceplates.

             I was about to ask him what was so interesting, but just then the door to med bay slid open and in sauntered Jazz, not looking at all like a bot who had just been resurrected. He walked with such smooth sureness; he almost seemed to glide over to where I was sitting on the berth. He stopped once we reached the end of the berth and grinned at me. I blinked and ducked my head a little, feeling shy all of sudden as I realized vaguely that this was a bot I really didn’t know despite having brought him back from the dead. I didn’t know what to say. I already knew who he was from Prowl, and chances were, he had been informed who I was from the other bots after he had onlined. Something of my struggle must have showed on my face because he chuckled.

            “Don’ worry, lil femme,” he said. “Ah only came to see how ya and Prowler are doin’. I also wanted to thank ya fer savin’ meh life.”

            I smiled and shook my head, feeling my nervousness melt away. “No thanks is necessary. I’m just glad I was able to help.” Prowl’s wing flicked and absentmindedly I stroked it in an unconscious attempt to soothe him. Jazz’s optics must have tracked my movements because he tilted his head at me curiously.

             “Prowler usually don’ like any bot touchin’ his wings,” he said, and I paused as it hit me then that not only was I stroking Prowl’s doorwing: I was also still cuddled up against him. My cooling fans switched on as I ducked my head and pulled away a little.

             “We’re not sparkmates, if that’s what your asking,” I said. I swirled my cube of pink energon. “We only just became mates.”

           “Oh?” He looked at me in surprise. At least, I assumed it was in surprise. It was a little hard to read his expression when his visor was down, covering his optics. “Ah gotta say it makes meh happy to know that Prowler’s got some bot,” he said, smiling fondly at said sleeping bot.

            I nodded, before regarding Jazz with a contemplative look. “So if you call him Prowler, then what does he call you? Jazzy?”

             There was a deep chuckle, and Jazz shook his head. “Nah. That mech ain’t one for name givin’.”

             That made sense, I realized, considering he had never called me anything but Jane.

             Jazz had sobered and was frowning at me. “Ya really got the AllSpark in ya?” I nodded, and he seemed to regard me a moment. “How did ya end up with that inside of ya?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious.

             “It was sort of like being struck by lightening,” I said. “I didn’t even touch it, it just _choose_ me for some reason.” I shrugged. “I don’t know why.”

             _Our children would have misused us._

             I blinked, remembering a pair of violet eyes that slowly morphed into a pair of violet optics.

             _Our children . . ._

             _My children . . ._

             Prowl’s wing flicked next to me and I came unto myself in time to see him lift his head from his hands and look briefly around. Ratchet appeared then with a cube in hand, which he passed to Prowl, after seemingly taking a moment to scan him.

             “Welcome back, Prowler,” said Jazz, grinning when Prowl scowled at him.

             Prowl caught sight of me though, and I watched as his irritation faded into a gentler look. I scooted forward until I was pressed almost against him with my legs dangling off the berth. “ _How are you feeling_?” I asked in Praxian, taking a small sip of energon.

             “ _My wing will be sore for a few days_ ,” he answered, flexing his wing slightly as he spoke.

             I grimaced and turned my gaze to the floor. “ _I’m sorry_ ,” I said. “ _I should never have attacked you like that. I don’t know what came over me._ ” I lowered my head. “ _I’m sorry—_ ”

             A hand under my chin lifted my head and I turned to find myself staring into two blue pools. “ _You have nothing to apologize for_ ,” said Prowl.

             “ _Ah agree with Prowler_ ,” said Jazz. It took me a moment to realize that he had spoken in Praxian albeit with an accent. I glanced over to find that he was looking at me with a more serious expression on his faceplates. “ _Doc-bot thinks it might have somethin’ to do with some sorta secondary programing in yer system._ ”

             “ _Secondary programing_?” I glanced at Ratchet, but quickly realized that he had no idea what we were saying since we were speaking in Praxian. I switched over to English so he could understand. “Is the secondary programing within my system harmful?” I asked, and Ratchet looked up from where he was bent over a consol.

             “According to my scans, no. The program appears to be dormant the majority of the time, with the only exception being when your system senses danger.”

             I breathed a sigh of relief at that, although the fact that I hadn’t actually been in danger when the program had activated was a bit unnerving. As if he could sense my unhappiness, Jazz shook his head. “Ain’t yer fault, lil femme.”

             Prowl shot an almost _grateful_ look, before touching my arm. “You’re going to fine, Jane,” he said.

             I nodded, forcing a smile onto my face. My optics met Prowl’s and, for once, his expression wasn’t hidden, and I saw the troubled concern on his face, mixed with tenderness and regret. Then it all disappeared.

             “I need to return to my office,” Prowl said, rising. “If you no longer have need of me.”

             “No,” Ratchet said, “you are free to go.”

             Prowl nodded and then he left, much to my disappointment. Jazz looked like he planned to follow after him, only for Ratchet to pin him with a glare. “Not you. I have a few more tests I want to run before you’re cleared for duty of _any_ sort.”

               Jazz sagged. “Dang. Ah was hopin’ you’d forgotten about that.”

               I smiled for real then and slide to my feet, finishing my cube off with one last gulp. I waved goodbye and walked across the room to the door, planning to curl up on my berth and sleep the rest of the day away.


	39. Violet Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has commented and read my story thus far :)
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I awoke and found myself lying in an ungraceful heap on the ground next to my berth._ For a moment, I was confused, but then I recalled everything that had happened the day before. I must have dropped into recharge before I had actually gotten onto my berth; it didn’t surprise me, I had been utterly exhausted upon reaching my quarters to the extent that I had no recollection of even walking here.

           I picked myself up carefully and inspected my paint job and finish. There were a couple of scuffs, likely from when I had collapsed. I buffed them out, inspected my armour again, and then, finding my appearance acceptable, I reached a hand into my subspace for an energon cube. Upon grasping air, I frowned. My energon cubes were gone. Absent. Depleted. Empty. I’d known that my storage was getting low, but I had not realized that I was completely out.

           To the lounge it was then, I supposed.

           I walked out into the corridor, scanning the ground automatically for soldiers as I went. Thankfully though, the hallway was practically deserted and I reached the lounge in no time flat. I went over to the dispenser and fetched myself a regular cube of energon, before walking down the halls to the main hanger, sipping from my cube as I went. Upon reaching the empty main hanger, I felt compelled for some reason to follow the sandy path that led to the beach outside. I transformed down just as soon as my feet hit the sand and found a piece of driftwood on which to sit.

           I sat there for an hour, looking out across the ocean as the sun rose from the east. I’d seen a lot of breathtaking sunrises in my mornings on the farm, but this one was more beautiful than any in while, the light a far stretching thing, setting the sky ablaze with a thousand shades yellow, pink, and orange over the waves of the water. I could’ve been reading _Jane Eyre_ or falling off to sleep in the warm sand, but on this morning the sky was too mesmerizing to ignore. As I watched it, I wondered briefly what would have happened to me had I not encountered the cube when I did. Would I still be at my farm with Astraea and Billy? Sitting on my special ledge watching the sunrise?

           “All the trembling sweetness I loved and adored . . . ,” I sang, my voice trailing off, not knowing the rest of the words. Images of younger and sweeter looking Abby came to me, reverberations of a simpler time. I wondered if she missed me the way I missed her and whether she would ever be a mother, what type of mother she would be and where mine was. _What is she doing right this minute?_ I’d thought occasionally throughout my life, but I was never satisfied with what my mind came up with. I didn’t know my mother’s life. She was there, but invisible, a skeleton tucked away in the closet; a lifeboat lost at sea.

           That was my mother: the woman who hadn’t mothered me. It never failed to amaze me every time I thought about it. Again and again and again. Of all the things, her failure to love me the way she should have had always been the most shocking thing of all. But as I gazed out over the brightening ocean miles away from my little farm, it occurred to me that I didn’t have to be amazed by her anymore.

           I thought about that as I hiked away from the beach down the sandy path and entered the main hanger. The first thing I saw upon entering was Flare-up, Chromia, and Arcee sparing in the main hanger. At least, I think they were sparing. Honestly, it was hard to tell considering they all had only one wheeled leg each. They waved me over when they noticed me watching them.

           “You up to some sparing, femmling?” asked Chromia as I came to a stop beside her.

           “Against all of you?” I asked, suddenly afraid that I was going to have to take on all three of them. I’d been training, but I still doubted that I was even _half_ as good as one of them.

           “Nah,” said Chromia. “I figure we can take turns.” She put her hand on her hip. “So you up for it?”

           I nodded, and we both got into position a little ways from the other femmes. I brought my hands up, keeping my fists loose but ready to close at a second’s notice. Chromia attacked first, rushing at me with such a speed that I nearly failed to bring my arm up to block her punch. Her blow stung and I had to struggle not to cover my arm and wince as she spun and lashed out with her hand toward my side. I blocked her, but she managed to catch me in my stomach with her other hand. The blow sent me stumbling backwards as I brought my arms up to protect my face. Lowering my hands I saw that Chromia was smirking. She was testing me. I wasn’t sure why, but it occurred to me that it could have something to do with my attack on Prowl.

           Narrowing my optics, I dropped back into my fighting stance and stood still as I waited for her to come to me. As she rushed toward me, however, I summoned that heat I had felt in my chest yesterday, feeling it spread down my arms and legs, until it felt as though my entire body was aflame. When I reopened my optics that I hadn’t even realized I’d closed, I found her fist inches away from my faceplates and stepped to the side in time for it sail by harmlessly. Without even pausing, I spun and landed a solid kick to her mid back, sending her skidding a few feet away from me. She spun immediately and a telltale tingle in my chest urged me to duck in time to avoid being punched in the face. I dropped to the ground and attempted to knock her wheel out from under her, but she jumped over my leg completely and I had to roll backwards to narrowly avoid getting struck. I leapt back onto my feet in time for her to rush me again and land a blow onto the side of my stomach.

           The heat in my chest pulsed hotly and a strangled noise left my throat as it hit me that I was hanging onto my control by a thread. Everything in my body screamed at me to either fight or flee. I could feel that last shred of control snapping, but with everything I had in me I held tight to it, refusing to let go completely.

           Transforming down swiftly, I sprinted towards Chroma’s wheeled foot, before transforming back up just as I reached her, forcing her backwards at the same time. She blocked a blow to her neck, catching my hand and twisting it rather roughly, but rather than react to the discomfort shooting up from my wrist I instead bashed my helm against hers. She didn’t let go, but her grip loosened enough that I was able to free myself. I yanked my hand away and dodged a blow to faceplates, only to receive a knee to my stomach. It was a shock to my systems and I instinctively wrapped my arms around my stomach, coming back unto myself in time to see a hand coming for me. It wasn’t a fist though, and I raised my head up from my still bent over position to find Chromia offering me a hand up.

             “Not bad, femmling,” she said with a lazy smile. She lost her smile just as soon as she met my optics though, and I raised a hand to my face as I wondered whether I was bleeding or something. Arcee and Flare-up wheeled over, their optics widening in shock as they too gazed at my face.

             “Is everything okay?” I asked, looking from one femme to the other.

             Chromia only shrugged, her face expressionless, her optics laced with hidden concern. “Your optics changed colour,” she said finally.

             “Changed colour?” I asked, my optics widening at the thought.

             “Yes,” said Arcee, sounding worried. She led me gently by the hand over to the hall entrance where she, along with the other femmes, brought me to the med bay. I thought that perhaps they were exaggerating, but then Ratchet also looked at me in surprise upon approaching to see what was the matter. I followed him over to a full-length mirror at the other side of the room, and gasped when I saw my reflection.

             My optics were glowing violet.

             _Just like the AllSpark in my dreams had been_ . . .

“Jane, are you well?” I felt someone touch my shoulder and turned my head to meet the concerned blue optics of Ratchet.

             I shrugged, wrapping my arms around myself, my optics once more returning to the violet-eyed femme looking back at me in the mirror. And here I’d thought my eyes switching from green to blue had been shocking.

             “I’m guessing that this isn’t normal?” I asked without removing my gaze from my reflection.

             “Not quite. It depends on their programming, but a Cybertronian’s optic color is typically blue, unless they are a Decepticon.” Ratchet was typing something into a datapad. “I want to run a couple of deep scans just to be safe, but I am guessing that while your color shift is odd, it is nothing to be worked up over.”

             I followed him over to one of the berths near the back and lay down on it, all the while thinking of my not-grandmother. The AllSpark. _Why had my optics shifted color now and not when I’d first transformed into a Cybertronian?_ I asked myself that silently, over and over. I also wondered if I could shift my optic color to green.

             The scan took about twenty minutes, at the start of which Chromia left due to her extreme dislike of being in the med bay—I didn’t blame her, though I felt no fear despite having been deathly afraid of hospitals and doctors as a human. I supposed it had something to due with my being friends with Ratchet. I trusted the medic with my life. Arcee and Flare-up stayed with during the remainder of the scan, staying off to the side in order to remain out of the way of the machine and Ratchet; we chatted idly amongst ourselves until the scan was finished and Ratchet gave me permission to sit up.

             “According to the scan all your systems are functioning normally at this time,” said Ratchet as he pushed the machine back against the wall.

             “That’s a relief,” I said, stretching my arms over my head, “though that doesn’t explain why my optics suddenly decided to change colour.”

             “Indeed it does not,” said Ratchet. “We will have to keep an optic on it, but for the meantime I want to conduct regular daily scans on you in order to fully rule-out the possibility of there being a virus or malfunction in your system.”

             I nodded, though inwardly I groaned at the thought of having to come in each day for a scan. I didn’t blame Ratchet—he just wanted to make sure I was healthy—but I was tired of there always being something wrong with me that I constantly had to check in. I was starting to get that caged-bird feeling arise in my gut again. How I longed for the openness of the terrain back at my farm—to lean my head back and close my eyes and feel the rush of the wind through my hair—

             Something of how I was feeling must have showed on my face because Arcee exchanged a quick look with Flare-up before taking my hand and smiling at me.

             “Come with us,” said Arcee. “We want to teach you how to drive.”

             I perked up at that. “For real?” I asked, looking between them eagerly. Ratchet had given me a data-packet containing all the information I needed to know in order to drive, but I hadn’t gotten around to actually putting the information to use lately. I had kept meaning to ask Prowl if he would take me for a drive, but forgot every time I was around him.

             “Yeah,” said Flare-up. “There’s a dirt track set up for practice—we’ll use that.”

             I clapped my hands in glee.

             “Alright then, scat. All of you,” said Ratchet, turning to walk back to his desk with his datapad still in his hand. “Some of us actually have work to do.”

             I rolled my optics, but grinned and slid off the berth obediently to follow the wheeled femmes out of the med bay doors. I was practically skipping by the time we reached the outdoor track and quickly transformed down into the Toyota Supra. The femmes followed suit and each transformed into their respective motorcycles right next to me. I gunned my engine excitedly as Flare-up counted us down, fighting the impulse to wiggle impatiently on my axels, when finally we were off.

             I zoomed forward, my internal speedometer telling me how fast I was going. I instantly found my processor being pulled in multiple directions all at once as parts of me began focusing on equally different things.

             Once I felt that I had a handle on all my sensors and speed and steering, I put all my concentration into accelerating enough to catch up to the femmes that were speeding around the turn in front of me.

             Dust flew into me as I quickly caught up to their hind tires. Sensors informed just how close was too close and I safely, but not without a bit of risk, pulled ahead of them, gunning my engine to let them know that it was okay for them to speed up as well. Flare-up took off almost immediately, manoeuvring expertly around me and then accelerating down the dirt track.

             Arcee flew by more slowly, though still at a breakneck speed according to my speedometer, and I accelerated accordingly in order to remain behind them, paying close attention to how they manoeuvred, when and where they accelerated, and the way they blocked each other from passing. I could tell that they were having fun; we all were, even if they were holding back for the sake of demonstrating techniques for me. There was something exhilarating about zooming along with the wind and dust blowing, and it wasn’t long before I had gained confidence and was attempting more and more daring manoeuvres in order to try and pass them.

             After about an hour of racing, we transformed and took turns giggling at how dusty our armour was. The femmes offered to give me a wash and apply some more polish in exchange for me lending my assistance in turn, so we returned to the main hanger and took turns washing each other using our holoforms—or in my case, just using my human form—which I had to admit was a lot of fun, especially when Flare-up started chasing me around with a bucket of soapy water.

             By the time we were finished, my yellow armour was back to being clear and shiny. I was happy that I had gotten to spend some time with the femmes, knowing as I did that I no longer felt intimidated by them.

             It wasn’t until later that evening when I was on my way to Prowl’s office with a cube of energon in my hand that the exhaustion from the day’s activities caught up with me and I stumbled my way into his office, only to collapse onto the floor when I entered.


	40. Kidnapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million apologies for not having updated this story in so long! Between work, school, and switching medications, I have had very little time and motivation to write. With more often then not having sat down to write only to find myself staring blankly at the screen for hours on end. 
> 
> With that said, however, I do intend to see this story through to the end so updates will continue to be made (however infrequent they may be). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_When I onlined my optics in the morning, I saw that I was lying on a berth that wasn’t_ my own. Confused, I rolled over to find that I was in Prowl’s quarters with said mech hunched motionlessly over his desk a few feet away. I stared unblinkingly at him for a few minutes, trying to mentally piece together what I remembered, before getting up and walking over to where he was still sat with his helm sprawled over his arms. I reached over and gently removed the datapad clutched in his hand and turned the power off without looking to see what it was, knowing as I did that it could very well be something confidential, then set it carefully on the desk. Prowl’s doorwing flicked lazily at my touch, but otherwise he remained unmoving with both wings at relaxed angles on his back.

             I smiled, enjoying seeing him so serene looking, even if the fact that he had so obviously worked himself to sleep last night bothered me. I touched my hand lightly to the back of his helm for a moment, before taking it away and walking over to the door. I crossed into the hallway, the door sliding shut behind me, and stepped down the hallway to the lounge with the intention of restacking my stock of energon cubes in my subspace, which was still empty.

             It was early but hot already as I walked the sandy path to the beach. Feeling remarkably better than yesterday, I felt rested and strong, braced for the day.

             The blue sky was everywhere above me, the sun bright and warm against my plating as I stood facing the ocean with a cube of energon in my hand. After awhile, I put the now empty cube away in subspace and stretched my arms over my head, the wind doing little more than whip the sand into swirls at my feet. I walked over to a dryer patch, plopping down on my aft in the sand, before reaching into my subspace and retrieving my polishing cloth from within to lightly run over my armour on my arms and thighs, as I almost always did in the mornings.

            I sang songs as I worked, the sun beating down on me to the extent that I was able to hear my cooling fans switch on at a low setting. As I polished, a seagull came to land on a piece of driftwood not far from where I was sitting, watchful but hardly afraid. I stopped and looked at it. My grandmother had loved listening to the sound of birds. When I woke up in the mornings, sometimes I would wander into her room and catch her lying in bed listening to the chirping of birds outside her window.

              I turned my gaze away from the seagull and looked up at the sky. Other birds still circled, hardly seeming to flap their wings as they glided on the wind. I stared at them for a moment with a sudden sadness that made me catch my breath, and then I polished on, my processor emptying into nothing but the effort to rub the wax into my armour. Arcee and Flare-up had done an excellent job polishing my plating into a brilliant shine the day before, but there was something relaxing about taking a few minutes each morning to touch up my armour. It wasn’t about being vain; I just liked the monotony of the routine I had set up for myself in the mornings.

             I stopped and looked over at the seagull, only to find that it had flown away. I tried not to feel disappointed by that fact and resumed polishing my left forearm, but my optic caught sight of an approaching figure farther down the beach. It was Prowl. As soon as I saw him, I put my polishing cloth away and stood, dusting off my after-plating briefly, before stepping down the shoreline to meet him. I hadn’t expected he would come looking for me after he woke up and couldn’t help feeling a flutter in my tank at the sight of him walking toward me in the sand. My happiness at seeing him vanished, however, once I caught sight of his face. I knew immediately by his neutral expression that usually softened minusculely when he looked at me that something had happened, though he said nothing as I came to a stop in front of him.

             “What are you doing here?” I asked, searching his blue optics worriedly.

             If Prowl was surprised by my violet optics, he didn’t show it. Instead his face remained neutral looking as he stared back at me silently for a few moments, seeming to study me.

             “We just received intel from the Chevy twins,” he said. “The Decepticons have captured your sister.”

             I stood motionless for a moment, paralyzed with dread. I gazed into his face to confirm whether what he had just said was true. _Megatron has my sister_ , I thought as everything inside me collapsed into itself.

             I wanted to ask, “ _What happened_?” but found that I couldn’t speak.

             It wasn’t until Prowl had turned around and begun to hike back the way he had come that my body suddenly jerked into action. I matched his fast pace back to the main hanger where bots and human soldiers where hurrying back and forth. Something awful had to have happened for the entire to base to on alert like this and I found myself seeing flashes of Astraea’s battered body as we strode over to where Optimus Prime was talking with Lennox, Ironhide, Ratchet, and Jazz.

             “Jane,” said Optimus as he left the group and approached us.

             “What’s happening?” I asked. I didn’t miss the look of concern in his optics as he gazed down at me, and I found myself becoming more panicked by the minute.

             “An ambush,” Optimus explained as Prowl left to go check on the troops. “The Chevy twins suffered minor casualties, but the Decepticons took your sister when she separated from them to run for cover.”

            “They took her?” I repeated slowly, not quite over the fact that my sister was really missing.

             “We’re doing everything we can to locate her,” he said when he saw my face. “The twins reported that she was likely unharmed when they took her.” I tried not to focus on the word _likely_ ; I knew it wasn’t his intention to scare me, but the gravity of the situation demanded that he be honest. “We will do everything in our power to get her back, Jane,” he said, laying a hand on my shoulder in a gesture of comfort. His optics dimmed then, and immediately I could tell that he was conversing with other bots on his communication link. I glanced quickly over at the group of bots and saw that Ratchet had already transformed and was heading for an awaiting airplane that was outside near the entrance, along with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

             “Where are they going?” I asked quietly, my spark heavy with the knowledge that I already knew where they were headed without being told. “I want to join them if it’s my sister they’re setting out to find,” I said, as I shifted my gaze back to Prime.

             “That is not wise,” Optimus said, removing his hand as he stared down at me with optics that were not unkind.

             “I’m with the Big Bot on this one, Jane,” yelled up a male human voice; and I glanced down to find Lennox staring up at me from beside Optimus’s foot. “It’s not safe. Especially with you being the cons main target. We’d be giving them exactly what they want.”

             “What they want?” I said, echoing his words.

             “Decepticons captured your sister in an attempt to lure you away from base,” said Optimus. He shook his head, his optics grave. “I am sorry, Jane, but it is a risk we cannot afford to take.”

             “But she’s my sister!” I said, looking between them. Like hell, I was just going to sit by and twiddle my thumbs while Abby was in the hands of those monsters.

             Looking past Optimus I spotted Prowl leaving Jazz and the others to make his way over to the plane as well, and ignoring Lennox’s protests, marched over to him. I caught up with him before he transformed and he subspaced his datapad to look at me.

             “I’m coming with you,” I said, looking him firmly in the optics.

             “No, you are not,” Prowl said, his face completely neutral. “The Decepticons have likely orchestrated a trap to capture you in the case that you leave base. I will not endanger you by allowing you to partake in this mission.” I opened my mouth to argue that I wasn’t helpless, but he raised a hand that effectively silenced me. “This is not because I doubt your abilities to defend yourself if the need be. I acknowledge that you have been working hard to improve your skills. With that said, however, you have not yet harnessed the powers of the AllSpark within you and I cannot afford the risk of you suffering from another meltdown like you did after reviving Jazz.” I startled at the reminder of my complete loss of control back with Jazz, but his stony expression didn’t fade. “I am sorry, but you are remaining here.”

             “You can’t make me stay here!” I yelled as he started to walk away. Ignoring the stares from everyone around me, I caught up to Prowl just before he reached the ramp of the plane and snagged him by the arm, causing his optics to narrow as they met mine.

             I opened my mouth to start pouring out all the reasons why he should let me come with him, but it was like all the sentences I had concocted within my mind just fizzled out on my tongue. Looking Prowl squarely in the face made me realize exactly what it was that was causing him to appear so callous.

             “I need to do this,” I demanded, my optics gentle, my face tilted to meet his. I pleaded with him silently, locked eye to eye, in hopes that he would understand. “Please. She’s all I have left.”

             It seemed like an eternity passed before he responded, giving only the tiniest of nods to indicate that I was being granted permission to accompany them. Gratitude washed over me, but the iciness in his optics kept me from enveloping him in a hug.

            I watched as he turned without a word, boarded the plane and transformed, before walking up the ramp myself and transforming down into a human. When I reached the interior of the plane, I took a cursory glance around at the alternate forms that were Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Ratchet, before approaching the side of Prowl. I wasn’t sure if riding with him was a good idea, or whether he would even grant me access to ride within him, but to my surprise, his door opened for me, and I climbed inside.

             I sat in the passenger seat as we flew across the country, feeling as though I was light years away from my old life. It was eerily silent, though the twins were no doubt talking to each other on their comms, and without meaning to, I found myself wrapping my arms tightly around my body as I looked unseeingly out the window, trying not to think about all the people who had come and gone in my life.

             It was unbearable. The whole thing. Every second worse than the last. I just kept thinking about Abby, wondering what would happen, if I would ever get to see her again. In the four years following our grandparents’ deaths, we’d been reduced to spending our time together as watered down versions of former selves, but that was not nothing. To lose my sister now would be to lose the opportunity for our relationship to ever recover. It felt like once she was gone, the thin invisible thread tying me to my grandparents, Astraea, and the farm, would finally snap, leaving me with alone with only my memories, and no one to remember any of it with.

 

From the moment I awoke in the ER after the accident that took my grandmother’s life, suffering from only a minor cut on my forehead and some bumps and bruises, my entire relationship with my sister changed. We’d slowly been drifting apart over the years, but it wasn’t until I’d woken up in the ER that she’d done a complete one-eighty and turned into a person I only vaguely recognized. She stopped coming around the farm as often, keeping her visits short, and a list of excuses for why on the tip of her tongue should one of us ever venture to ask.

             Later, after my grandfather passed from a heart attack, her visits to the farm stopped completely. By that point I had grown accustomed to her continual absence from the happenings in my life and was no longer affected by her shying away from anything concerning our grandparents, having more or less come to terms with our new relationship dynamic. After all, it wasn’t as though she was gone from my life completely—I still visited her in the city occasionally and we talked on the phone on a regular basis. It was just the space she occupied in my life was no longer the same. Like, suddenly, she was everything and she was nothing.

             But that wasn’t quite right. Not a day went by when I didn’t miss my sister, only it was easier to rush headfirst into battle equipped with a shield than it was to allow myself to be continually hurt by her actions, or I daresay, lack of actions. I had always been a deep-feeling person, to the point where shields were necessary even on a day-to-day basis to save myself a tide of hurt later on. And yet, nothing could’ve prepared me for how it would feel once my shield finally dropped, for the intensity of the emotions slamming into me again and again as I sat still and silent staring out the window, the waves tossing me against the rocks then pulling me back out to sea so that they could launch me again into the jagged rocks, leaving me floating alone in the water, battered and bruised.

             After a while, I became aware of Prowl’s human-cop hologram poised in the driver seat beside me and wordlessly met his cutting gaze. I couldn’t tell you what he was thinking, but at some point, Prowl said, “I understand.”

             And I stared at him silently for a moment, as it dawned on me that of course he could relate to my situation. He too knew what it was like to put your life on the line for your home and your family. The whole thing in turn made me realize that I understood him as well, why he behaved the way he did towards me.

             Finally I just kind of crawled across my seat into his lap and he held me really tight and I wrapped my arms all the way around his middle and we held on to one another while the tide rolled in.


	41. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is up! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> R + R please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_When we first got there, I sat tensely in the passenger seat of Prowl as he drove down a_ bustling highway composed of five-lanes on either side of the cement blocks, headed towards our destination. The lithe vehicle forms of the twins were a few cars ahead of us, speeding but surprisingly not as fast as I thought they would be going, perhaps because Prowl was a part of this mission and didn’t take kindly to them drawing the attention of those around to themselves. Ratchet was a ways behind us, his hummer not being able to keep up with our more lightweight and fast forms, though he kept up remarkably well.

                 For a while, I just watched people driving or talking in their cars, which was a habit I had carried with me from childhood. All these people I’d never seen before reeled me in as though I were some fish attached unbreakably to their lines, and I couldn’t help but ogle at the cavernous gap I felt between myself and these people, because they all lead relatively normal lives, being normal people, and I could never again return to my former life at the farm with Astraea, Billy, and my grandparents. I wondered, not for the first time, what would become of me were the Autobots to at some point ever leave Earth. Would I follow them? What life was there for me here if I stayed?

                 The cars surrounding us were edging in closer to Prowl’s sides, which I had to say was pretty ballsy, considering that he appeared, at least to them, to be a police cruiser. But when I looked out the window at the driver of the car that was closest to Prowl’s passenger side, I was startled to find that he was staring straight at me. He didn’t even appear to be controlling the car, which wove in and around cars all on its own. Decepticons surrounded us, and what was worse; the humans around us were completely oblivious to that fact.

                 I wanted to make their presence known to Prowl and the others, but was struck by the sudden realization that the twins were no longer racing at the edge of Prowl’s field and instead seemed to be maintaining their positions, so I pressed my lips together, saying nothing.

                 I watched as the cars surrounding us edged closer and closer, cutting us off from the twins, making me increasingly nervous the longer Prowl continued to drive calmly, until—without warning—my seatbelt pulled me flush against the back of the seat and we rapidly slowed, just as the car next to us swerved sharply left, obviously having intended to ram into Prowl’s side.

               I barely had time to catch my breath before we had pulled into the lane right of where the clump of Decepticons were and accelerated past them, sirens blaring.

                 I tried not to think about how many people were in danger if this morphed into more than just a highway chase and instead focused on watching how smoothly Prowl wove in and out between cars at breakneck speeds. I could see the twins as we approached: They were fanned out of either side of the lanes with a space in the middle, and I wondered what the purpose of that formation was. But a moving blur of black in the rear-view window caught my attention. One of the cons had partially transformed and was aiming a cannon at us, the light within the barrel already firing up.

                 My hands tightened on the edge of the seat just as my seatbelt came undone and Prowl said, “Don’t transform.”

                 There was no time for me to ask what he meant. In one quick motion Prowl had transformed and leapt so that he was above me and the orange blast that zipped harmlessly underneath us both.

                 I flailed and screamed when I realized that not only was I airborne, but that I was also about to be splattered across the pavement. Only for the interior of Prowl to materialize around me in a concocted blur of moving parts, and suddenly I found myself back in the passenger seat with the seatbelt snaking across my paralyzed form to click into place.

                 It took me a moment to process what had just happened, but when it did I fixed a smoldering glare onto the dashboard.

                 “What the _fuck_ , dude! A little warning next time would be nice.”

                 “I apologize for alarming you,” Prowl said as we sped past the twins. They swerved to block the Decepticons from following us, expertly manoeuvring so that it was the cons that were caught between themselves and Ratchet.

                 I suddenly felt nervous that the hot-headed twins would do more than just evade an attack from the cons were they to fire at either of them, that a full out fight would break on right here on the highway with humans surrounding us. But before any of that could happen, a helicopter dipped down in front of us.

                 At first I thought it was going to fire its weapons at us, but when I glanced through the small windows into the cockpit, my eyes caught sight of something that made my energon freeze. Abby.

                 She was strapped into the assistant pilot seat, making frenzied gestures at me, and shouting words I couldn’t hear. She wore a powdered white tank top, tight against her curvaceous form, with noodle straps, and black skinny pants. She looked like she had just gotten out of bed, her red hair loose and wild. The Decepticons we had formerly passed, pulled up alongside us like a pair of escorts, but as Prowl and the others allowed themselves to be herded with little to no resistance, I could only stare slack-jawed at the sight of Abby. After a moment, the helicopter lifted so that it was no longer hovering just feet above the front of Prowl’s hood, and flew ahead a little ways.

               My hand was on the door handle before I even became aware of it, and I kind of struggled with pushing the door open, until I remembered that the door was part of a living transformer.

               I shot the dashboard a look. “Prowl, let me out.”

               “Now isn’t the time for heroics,” Prowl said. The Decepticons still flanked us on both sides, no longer outwardly hostile, having transformed fully back into cars, but then neither was Prowl actively working to evade them anymore either.

               “Why?” I asked with disbelief. “My sister is in that helicopter! Now might be the only chance we have to rescue her!” I felt this weird mix of frustration and anger welling up inside me. Part of me literally wanted to smash the window in my urge to chase after the Decepticon that was holding my sister captive.

             “I’m with Jane!” Sideswipe’s voice crackled on the radio, startling me until I realized that Prowl had his internal communication link open. “We should take out these cons while Abby is still within our sights!”

               “ _No_ ,” Prowl said, his voice cutting like glass. “Strategically speaking we stand a greater chance of success if we attack now, however—strategy aside—we have a moral obligation to protect the lives of the surrounding humans before we instigate any form of combat with the Decepticons.”

               “But if we follow them we’ll be playing right into their hands,” I pointed out.

              “I don’t doubt that,” Prowl confirmed. “The likelihood of Megatron releasing your sister into our custody is statically low, regardless of whether we cooperate or not.”

               “Then . . .” I said. I felt inclined to argue with him. Not because I didn’t agree, but because as much as I could see the logic in wanting to avoid what-would-likely-be-a-violent-battle in the middle of busy highway, I was afraid of loosing my sister. I felt as though my loyalty was being pulled in opposing directions: Loyalty to my new family, the Autobots, who had sworn to protect all of humankind; and loyalty to my last living tether to all that I had ever known, my sister, a single dot in a seemingly infinite number of people who had lived and would continue to live, should the cons never win the war. “Fine,” I said.

             “Our cooperation will only extend so far, Jane,” Prowl said, his voice sounding from right next to me, instead of through the sound system. I turned around. It was his human holoform, staring at my collarbone, sitting in the driver seat beside me. I followed his gaze down to find that my hand was once again clutching my locket. I dropped it like it had burnt me and clenched my hands together in my lap instead.

             “I believe you, Prowl,” I said. “I just . . . I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

             I unclasped and clasped my hands, resisting the urge to stare out the window at the helicopter in the sky that contained my sister. When a hand touching my wrist startled me out of my reverie. I looked over in time to see Prowl take my hand gently and stare down at it a moment, before surprising me by bending down and laying an almost kiss to the back of it—I say almost, because he didn’t so much as pucker his lips as he just held his lips against my skin for a moment.

             When he raised his head and his intense blue eyes met mine, I didn’t even think. I just reacted. I held my hand against his cheek, looking at him, thinking about how much I wanted to kiss him, despite knowing that Cybertronians didn’t kiss.

             And then we were kissing. My hand moved from his cheek to his neck, and he stiffened, before gradually relaxing and reaching up to lay a hand against my cheek, trapping some of my golden hair in the process. As his parted lips met mine, I forgot about the Decepticons on either side of us and my sister high in the sky and the fact that I was kissing a hologram inside of a living car.

             I’m not going to lie and say that it was anything but sloppy, considering that it was a kiss between two people who had never kissed anyone ever, but it lasted long enough that we managed to meld together quite comfortably.

             When we finally broke apart, I realized that my eyes were closed and opened them. Prowl was staring at me, his lit blue eyes closer to me than they’d ever been in this form, casting a soft glow over my face.

             I pulled away from Prowl, suddenly embarrassed and worried that I had been too forward, until I realized that he was smiling. It was a small smile, mind you, but a smile all the same from the ever stoic Prowl. I ducked my head, suddenly shy about looking at him. I could not match the intensity of his gaze.

            Then his usual vacuity of expression settled upon his face like a mask, and the reality of our situation became all too apparent as I realized that we were no longer driving down the highway. Prowl’s hologram fizzled out when I turned back to face him, and he didn’t speak a word as we sped through the city. My mind kept looping over the tingling feeling in my lips and the heat and pressure in my chest. I couldn’t help but repeatedly reach up and brush my fingers over my lips.

             Prowl turned in to a road that took us to the outskirts of the city, drove over a bridge, and followed a rutted paved road that took us to a large aged warehouse that had definitely seen better days until finally we entered through an entrance that was revealed to us after a moment of waiting outside and he parked.

             “Stay close,” he said, and I got out. The air was warmer in the warehouse than it had been in Prowl. I transformed at the same time the others did and Prowl stood so that we were nearly shoulder to shoulder, while the twins moved up so that they stood on my other side, with Ratchet remaining behind all of us. It felt strange being cushioned between a bunch of mechs, feeling the heat and life in them all. Of all the fields that I was sensing, Prowl’s was the calmest, and I unwittingly edged myself a tidbit closer to him; his impassive stance and features giving nothing of what he was thinking. It was then that I remembered to take a gander around, noticing then that there were multiple Decepticons scattered about the otherwise empty, trash filled, massive floor space. Of course, one con stood out to me more than the rest: He stood in front of Starscream, his presence drowning out that of the other, much-lesser-in-comparison Decepticons as he pinned me with his blood-red gaze.

             “I see you decided to make another appearance, femme,” Megatron said, his guttural voice sending chills up my spine as images of his claws wrapped around my throat cables flashed across my vision. “You remember me, don’t you?”

             Beside me the twins growled lowly, and Sideswipe said, “Just hand over Abby to us before we decide to turn all of you into scrap metal.”

           “You seem to forget that I hold the fate of your fleshling in my palm,” Megatron said calmly. “Was it not for your failure to protect the very _thing_ you came here with the intention of saving to begin with, its existence would not be dependant upon my will of letting it continue to live or not.”

             The twins engines stuttered a moment, before Sunstreaker let out the darkest growl I had ever heard him make—which, considering that this was only my second time accompanying them into battle or whatever one may choose to call this weird sort of meeting, in actuality was likely not all that rare. The tension was palpable in the air. But I wasn’t angry or afraid. I felt nothing except a desperate need to at least _see_ my sister, before any sort of fight broke out. I straightened, catching his gaze and holding it. “I refuse to take your word,” I said, “you could have rid yourself of her as we have been talking. If she is in fact currently alive and not just another casualty of this godforsaken war, prove it.”

             Surprise seemed to flicker in the fields of the mechs around me, but I ignored them. Like hell I was just going to sit back and trust the word of a Decepticon!

             Megatron had a predatory look in his optics as stared back at me that caused the protectiveness in the fields closest to me to flare up, but nevertheless, a hulking black con with propellers on his back stepped forward, his chest plates spreading to reveal none other than Abby crouched at the back inside. He reached in and plucked her up, despite her kicking and screaming at him like a rampant animal, handing her over to an awaiting Megatron. I watched with growing fright as he used one hand to hold her carelessly like a young boy might grab a Barbie doll. I noticed strangely that Barricade was also staring at Abby with something unreadable in his optics, though he kept a watchful gaze on her.

             Megatron clasped the sides of Abby’s face with two claws, holding her head still as he stared down at her dispassionately. “You asked for proof. Here is proof. I entrusted the human girl to Barricade for safe keeping before dispatching her within Blackout upon hearing news of your approaching party.”

             I almost took a step toward her, but stopped myself. As of yet physically she was unharmed, he was just holding her, I told myself. She was perfectly okay—aside from perhaps being emotionally scared shitless. But one wrong move could change everything.

             “What do you want?” I asked in a falsely relaxed tone, though the sight of her in the hands of that monster terrified me.

            Megatron said nothing, just stared at me in a way that caused me to feel more exposed than had I been standing there with my spark chamber uncovered. After a minute, his red orbs flickered from me onto Prowl and he said in his deep, gravelly voice, “I’ll agree to let all of your team and this _fleshling_ go peacefully in exchange for the human-born femme. Otherwise, I kill all of you and take my future sparkmate by force.” He tightened his grip on Abby, causing her face to contort from the pain. “The choice is yours, Commander.”

              Prowl observed Megatron torture Abby with a cool expression. “No,” he said after a while. “You should know better than to assume that I’d be willing to concede to you the life of an Autobot femme for the price of a single human.” I felt his words slam into me like a tidal wave, but knew deep inside that he was right. I heard Abby gasp as Megatron squeezed her ever harder, and averted my optics, unable to watch what was happening to her. I could feel myself disintegrating inside myself like the petals of a past-bloom flower blowing in the wind.

               _Please_ , I thought, _please_.

               “I see,” Megatron said, his optics cutting into mine as he continued to speak to Prowl. “So that is your final answer then?”

               “It is not,” Prowl said. He stepped toward him. “I offer myself in exchange for the human woman.”

               I snapped my head up so fast that had I still been composed of bone instead of metal I might have fractured my neck.

              “Interesting,” Megatron said, his optics cutting back to Prowl. They glinted as the eyes of a predator might in the shadow of its prey. “I accept your offer.”

               I watched in shock as Prowl took another step forward before dropping onto his knees and placing his hands on the back of his helm. A pair of bulky Decepticons unknown to me walked out from the shadows to seemingly stand guard over Prowl, with their weapons pressed against the sides of his head. And Megatron bent over to half-place-half-drop Abby onto the dirty floor. She stumbled, but picked herself up in time to avoid being stepped on by Megatron whose attention was fixed solely upon Prowl. Seeing Megatron approach Prowl with a viperous glint in his crimson optics I felt a sudden stab of protectiveness so intense that I stepped toward him—hackles raised—, only to feel a hand grab mine.

               I glanced back to find Ratchet staring down at me with a grim expression.

             “Stay close to us,” he said as the twins next to us glared daggers at Megatron and the other Decepticons, but otherwise stood by idly with not even a verbal word of protest. “This is not your decision. It is Prowl’s. And we must honour it.”

               “Are you _serious_?” I asked. “Are you honestly just going to stand there and let this happen?”

               “I am, because I trust Prowl’s judgement,” he said, and his words expanded in my tank like the spray of gunshot. My mind went to the battle at my farm, minutes after Astraea had died, when I had inadvertently resulted in Prowl getting injured. It went to the fact that not only was he a brilliant tactician, but that he was also second in command of the Autobots. And then it landed on the trust he had demonstrated in allowing me to partake in this mission—trust that should be returned. I could still feel the invisible line connecting me to him like a hot thread, but I remained rooted where I was, even as Megatron grinned down at Prowl whilst gripping him around the throat with one hand.

             From beside Prowl, one of the Decepticons retrieved a pair of luminescent wristlets out of subspace, cuffing Prowl’s wrists together behind his back. Megatron seemed to pay little attention to this fact: His clawed hand was still tightly wrapped around Prowl’s throat, his optics never wandering from Prowl’s face.

               Prowl’s cooling fans were getting louder and louder in the same fashion that mine had when Megatron had strangled me, though he displayed no outward signs of any struggle. I thought I might throw up. I looked over him at Megatron, who was looking increasingly eager for some sort of reaction out of him, and caught his optic. Some sort of sick pleasure flashed across his gaze when our optics connected, and I recoiled when I realized that he enjoyed knowing I was watching. He _knew_ about us being mates. Megatron said, “I believe you have what you came here for. Now _leave_ , before I reconsider letting you live.” He was speaking to all of us, but his gaze never ventured from my face.

               “This isn’t over,” Sunstreaker growled darkly, but started to back away along with his brother.

               I felt myself also being pulled away. I wanted nothing more than to stay and fight for Prowl, but I knew that by doing so would endanger Abby and quite possibly Prowl himself—if my past was anything to go by—, so I reluctantly allowed myself to be pulled backwards by Ratchet, under Megatron’s intense crimson stare, my tank churning at the sound of Prowl’s ragged cooling fans. Ratchet pulled me towards the entrance, and I had just turned to face him when—

               “HEY, MEGA-FART!” Abby shouted.

               I spun around.

               Abby stood a little ways in front of the twins, who, judging by the startled expressions on their faceplates, had thought she was still where she’d fled to after being let go by Megatron: behind them. As she stood there with her arms planted on her hips like she was about to give a lecture to a group of naughty kids, I could only stare slack-jawed at her. “DO US ALL A FAVOUR AND GO FUCK YOURSELF!” Abby shouted.

               I still wasn’t worried, exactly, but then she bent down and picked up a broke bottle and hurled it at him. What remained of the bottle shattered upon contact with his helm and landed in scattered pieces on the cement floor.

               At first Megatron, along with the rest of his goons, looked about as shocked as the rest of us. Then he tossed Prowl to the ground and fired up his fusion cannon, aiming it at Abby.

               With a shout of rage and determination, I yanked my hand free from Ratchet and threw myself at Megatron.

               Before I could reach him, however, Prowl slammed into his side, causing him to misfire at the ground next to Abby. I barely had time to blink at the sight of Prowl and his cuff-less hands, before the ceiling above us shattered.


	42. War Of Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter! If you haven't checked out my other transformers fanfic 'When Dawn Arrives' please go give it a read! I will be switching back and forth between updating this story and that one.
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_I backed up, protecting my head with my forearms from the spray of glass and ceiling_ debris _._ Even as I averted my face, as my optics were instinctively squeezing closed, I caught a glimpse of a red and blue mech plunging towards the floor about fifty feet away.

               It was Optimus Prime himself.

               A series of blasts boomed from all around me.

               I straightened and ran across the room, dodging a pair of hands, and casting only a cursory glance at where Optimus was decking it out with Megatron, my main focus on getting to where I had last seen Abby.

               When I discovered that she was no longer anywhere around where she had previously been, I spotted her at the base of Barricade’s foot, shielding her head and face as I had done while said mech protected her from any incoming blasts or debris with such a glowering look that I found it hard to believe he was protecting her from the goodness of his spark.

               Behind me, I sensed the presence of some bot reaching for me.

               I reacted purely on instinct: Spinning around, my foot collided with his face, at which time I simultaneously transformed my hand into a blaster, and discharged two shots directly at his head.

             The mech I shot skidded backwards, clutching his mangled face. I recognized him immediately then. It was Sideways. His single optic cut into both of mine with a final look of hatred and terror, before his legs seemed to give out and he collapsed onto the dingy floor, his optic flickering out just as energon from the hole in his face pooled around him.

             I didn’t know whether I was satisfied having killed the mech responsible for Astraea’s death or not. Maybe. What I _did_ know was that Sideways wasn’t ever going to hurt anyone again. And with my spark was hammering harder than it ever had in my chest, I turned and headed back to where Barricade was still hovered over Abby, keeping my blaster pointed at him just in case he intended to keep her hostage. But to my surprise as soon as our optics met he stood and Abby ran right over to me.

            My shock must have been visible on my faceplates because he glared at me and said, “Take the fleshling and get out of here while you still can, femme.”

             “But . . .” I still couldn’t believe that a _Decepticon_ would risk defying Megatron to protect a human. It just didn’t make sense. Though now that I was thinking about it, Barricade _was_ the least aggressive when compared to the other cons. At least that I had seen anyway. I shook my head to clear it. “Why?”

             “Does it matter?” Barricade growled, taking a step back. “Just take her and go already!”

             “You come always come with us.” Abby had her head tilted back at him from where she was standing with one hand on my foot.

             “Don’t assume I’ve turned soft, _femme_ ,” Barricade said, narrowing his optics at her. “I am nothing like your fragging, organic-loving Autobots. I’d sooner squish a human that have to deal with them.”

             “Totally explains why you _saved_ me then!” Abby said sarcastically; and I bent over quickly to shield her with my hand in case he snapped as Megatron had.

             Instead of trying to kill her though, Barricade only looked at her thoughtfully for a second, before sidestepping to avoid a blast that would have struck him right in the helm. Acid ate away at the wall it had instead struck—hissing and bubbling—

             Prowl stood behind us with his doorwings flared out and his black acid gun pointed at Barricade. His intent was clear. If Barricade so much as took a _step_ in our direction, he would kill him.

             As utterly relieved as I was to see that he was still _alive_ and not lying on the dirty floor somewhere with half his face missing, I was worried he might shoot what could very well be a potential ally in this war and stood up in front of him, blocking the barrel of his gun from the Decepticon.

             Though his faceplates remained impassive, I glimpsed surprise flit across his stony optics, before it was swallowed up by the unbreakable blue.

            “Move aside, Jane,” Prowl said.

             The authoritative tone in his voice made me feel inclined to obey, but I didn’t move. Something about Barricade gave me hope that there existed _some_ good in him so I straightened and met Prowl’s gaze unflinchingly, stepping forward until the end of his gun was against my chest plates.

             “No.”

             “That was an order.”

             “I know. But please don’t shoot him.”

             His frigid optics cut into mine, silently calculating, before lifting his acid gun from where it was pointed at my chest. “I expect a full explanation once we return to base,” he said, and turned his gaze to Barricade, who at this point still hadn’t moved form his position. “I will not order my mechs not to attack you. However, I will allow you to leave from here unharmed if you stay clear of the femmes.”

             Barricade was still staring at Abby with an unreadable expression, and didn’t reply.

             “Barricade?” I said gently, causing his optics to snap up to mine. I could sense some sort of internal struggle raging within his spark, and I blinked, wondering how that was exactly. There was something else—within his spark—I could sense—

             A low growl snapped me out of my reverie, and I lifted my optics from where they had been focused in on Barricade’s chest plates in time to see him glowering at the floor with his arms crossed. “If it’s at all possible, I would like to accompany your team back to your base. I am renouncing my allegiance with the Decepticons—” His glaring optics shot up then. “ _Not_ because I have any desire to become an Autobot. If anything, all I want is to live out the rest of my days in relative peace.”

             I blinked in surprise at his words, and turned to see Prowl staring back at the con with a cold, calculating gaze.

             Finally, Prowl said, “If you wish to accompany us back to base, it will be as a prisoner, with your optics and sensors dampened so that you are unable to trace the location. Upon arrival, you will immediately be escorted to our brig and will remain confined there for the time being.”

             Barricade tapped his claws against his forearms, glowering, but unexpectedly said nothing.

             “Your internal communications will also be changed from that of Decepticon to Autobot, including your energy signature—”

             “I don’t want to become an _Autobot_!” Barricade cut him off, snarling.

             “I never said you did,” Prowl said, unperturbed by being interrupted. “Merely that you would be unable to remain with Decepticon internal communications while on base. An Autobot energy signature would help cloak you from the Decepticons, as well as identify you to us.”

             I looked at Barricade as Prowl said this, wondering what his response would be. From what little I knew about the Decepticon, he didn’t seem the type that would take kindly to having so much forced upon him were he to agree to come with us.

             “I’ll do it.” Barricade was staring at Prowl with a surprisingly calm look in his red optics.

             Prowl nodded, walking past me with his acid gun out to stand just behind the fellow black and white mech’s shoulder. With a gentle but firm nudge on the back of his shoulder using his gun, Barricade took the hint and began walking back to where the entrance of the complex was, while I bent down and picked up Abby, holding her in my palm against my chest plates.

             It was then I suddenly remembered that there was—or at least _had_ been—a battle raging on around us.

             No Decepticons were in sight, however, except for the dead ones. And I could see a shattered window at the far end of the room, likely where some bot had leapt or been thrown out. Closing my optics, I focused on expanding my sensory field and picked up on some Autobot energy signatures closing in fast on our location. When I reopened them, Barricade was observing me with a strange look that morphed into his usual gruff expression when he caught me staring at him.

             It was right about then that Ironhide and Optimus drove in through the open entrance and transformed, walking up to us, with serious looks on their faceplates. I assumed that Prowl had been communicating with them over the com links, because they seemed unsurprised at the sight of Barricade—though Ironhide had his cannon pointed at the con—his faceplates bearing a less than pleased expression.

             The silence stretched on for a few minutes while they seemingly continued to talk over their com links. At some point, Ratchet arrived and, after exchanging a look with Optimus, approached Barricade and began to tinker with his sensors, resulting in the con’s optics becoming dimmer and his energy signature switching to that of an Autobot.

               We all transformed after that: With Abby and I heading over to Ratchet with the intention of riding with him since he wanted to scan her for injuries and I sensed instinctually that Prowl’s enforcer protocols had switched on now that a Decepticon was in his custody.

               Holoform Ratchet made quick work of Abby, scanning her and deeming her to be physically unharmed aside from two fractured ribs. There was nothing that he could really do regarding those, considering that the fractures were only minor and would likely heal up on their own in time—though he _did_ administer an injection of pain medication.

               Abby was unusually quiet throughout the entire check up, and, seeing how pale her face was, how black the skin was underneath her eyes, I worried she might be in shock. She looked like a hot mess, with her hair tangled and shiny from grease; and her side marked with a deep purple bruise. She smiled at me though when she caught me staring at her and to my surprise took my hand and gave it a squeeze.

               I held on, even as we boarded the plane and her body started to sag and her head fell against my shoulder listlessly, I didn’t let go, not even for a second.

               We stayed like that all the way back to base.


	43. Colours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone who has read and kept up with my story so far! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Read and review please!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_Diego Garcia had calmed quite a bit by the time I helped Abby climb out the back doors_ of Ratchet into the early evening air. Jesse Whitaker appeared next to me less than a few moments later with the offer to take Abby over to one of the human medics and make sure she had a chance to eat something. Abby seemed fine with that and even allowed him to scoop her up bridle-style since the pain medication had made it hard for her to walk straight. We embraced and wished each other a good night, with the intent of seeing each other again tomorrow. I stood with my hand lightly holding my golden locket, watching them go.

               Their leaving made me feel melancholy, though I also felt something like relief when they disappeared into the hanger. I hadn’t come back empty handed; my sister was alive. As beyond relieved as I was to know that, I was also strangely numb with the carried knowledge that I had actually _killed_ someone. Death was something I was well acquainted with, having many lost people close to me who I loved, but up until this point it had always been something tragic, something I couldn’t keep from happening. My direct killing of another soul or spark had altered that sense. Death wasn’t a silent eerie hunter anymore, but something I’d dipped a hand in, and now I was no longer just the victim, grieving over those I had lost, but the _thief_ as well. Had Sideways left behind a family? Parents? Siblings? At the time, I’d been thinking only of myself and the grief he had caused me when I’d lashed out—hadn’t even thought really, just reacted—but what if he too had lost some bot that had caused him to side with the Decepticons. I didn’t know. I never would.

                 I walked in the cool of the twilight down to the beach, and I transformed at the water’s edge, allowing the tide to periodically drown my metallic feet. My skills were sharpening from all the training I’d been doing, as had been my desire all along to no longer be the weakest link. At the same time, I could ever so slightly feel a grief in my body, emanating from my very spark.

                 I felt, not for the first time, that I’d stumbled across a crossroads in my life and that whatever decision I came to now would have a profound effect on me in the years to come. There was my not-grandmother standing near the base of my golden foot, staring upwards at the darkening sky with me. I turned to regard her, thinking she would simply vanish, but instead she only met my violet gaze with her own and looked at up me, her face calm and free from any of the deep-rooted emotion I knew sat within the center of who I was. I stood still, watching her, not feeling even a little bit angry or afraid, as I’d been in the weeks before when I’d confronted her.

                 “It’s okay,” I whispered to myself, not knowing what I was going to say until I said it: “I will never use this body to take another life.”

                 When I spoke, it was as if a spell had been broken. I turned back to observe the vanishing sun at the horizon, knowing without looking that my not-grandmother was no longer standing in the water beside me, but had returned to the innermost part of me.

                 I closed my optics, breathing in the salty-scent of the ocean and detecting a spark approaching me from behind. I reopened them and turned my head in time to see Prowl walk up beside me, moving silently as though he were composed of air. I’d glimpsed him escorting Barricade into the main hanger, down to where the Brig was I supposed, earlier. I’d been fairly certain that I wouldn’t see him again until I snuck into his quarters later tonight to recharge on his berth while he worked at his desk. Seeing him now startled me, as if he were part mech, part ghost.

                “Hey,” I said to him after I’d recovered, and he nodded. He stood so close to me that our shoulders nearly touched. I took comfort in the warmth emanating from his frame and unconsciously leaned a hair closer to him. “The sky’s beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” I said, looking across the ocean at the sky that was just beginning to alight dots of with stars.

                 I thought of my farm, a mere speck in comparison to this view, sitting silent and empty under this same sky; a whisper of what it once was. It seemed far away. I realized that without me there to tend to it, nobody would, and that the land would reclaim what had once been hers. Slowly. The weeds and grass would grow tall, and the house—once full of pancakes wafting from the kitchen in the morning, cuddles on the couch, paintings in my bedroom—would wither away to nothingness.

                 “From dust we came, to dust we return,” my grandmother had used to say during on our many discussions on the topic of death and decay. For the first time in my life, the saying applied to more than just the burnt up remains of a former body in an urn.

                 “Thank you for saving Abby and trusting me in regards to Barricade,” I said after a while.

                 “Your welcome,” Prowl replied, though when I turned to face him his optics had narrowed slightly. “However, I do expect a full report on your reasoning behind choosing to trust a former Decepticon.”

                 “I don’t _know_ what it was,” I said, shaking my head. “I sort of glimpsed into his spark, and the second I did, I knew that we could trust him.” I looked up at Prowl, waiting for him to interject and chastise me for trusting a con based on a _feeling_ , but he remained silent. “It had something to do with the AllSpark,” I added. “Just so you won’t get the wrong idea.”

                 We stood so close together, my hands aching for something to hold. I could feel the ferocity of the ocean on one side of me; the dark sky and the army buildings like a giant slumbering beast on the other; and us between them, alone together in a starlit paradise. His optics once again reminded me of the pinpricks of stars shining above him and I wanted to reach up and touch him, but I didn’t. We stood there, not saying anything, looking into each other’s optics as if it would be the last time.

                 “Do you want to go inside?” Prowl asked after a long while.

                 I nodded and together we turned to retrace our steps back up the bank and to the main hanger, wandering through the halls, passing by my quarters without so much as a glance, until finally we came to a stop outside of his, so that he could type in his intricate passcode by the door.

                 “Didn’t want to recharge alone tonight?” I asked, teasingly. I followed him inside to stand in the space between the door and the side of his metal berth pressed against the far wall. His wings flicked at my insinuation as he mixed some contents into a pair of energon-filled cubes, but when he turned to deliver me a cube, a subtle smile was tugging at his lips.

                 “I felt inclined to bring you here, seeing as you were very likely to show up later tonight anyway,” he said, raising an optic-ridge meaningfully, and I ducked my head to hide my blush.

                 I quickly took a sip of my energon to try and move past the awkward topic, only for my optics to light up when I realized that this cube not only tasted different, but _good_. I looked at Prowl with a question on my faceplates.

                 “I added some flavouring,” he explained when he caught my look. “Energon was rarely consumed in its standard state back on Cybertron. It wasn’t until the war broke out and the quantity of available energon greatly decreased that we began to ingest it in the form you are most accustomed to.”

                I blinked in surprise, before gently swirling my cube and taking another sip of the savoury substance.

                 We lapsed into silence for a while, each of us drinking our respective cubes and descending into our own thoughts. That was part of what I loved about him. We could simply be together like this without feeling the need to talk mindlessly. It had been a long time since I had felt this comfortable with someone—to just be able to be together with someone and not feel the need to be doing something or filling the empty air with small talk.

                 When I glanced back up, my optics met his, and I was startled to find that he was watching me.

                 “What?” I asked, expecting him to say nothing and return to drinking from his cube. Instead, I watched as another small smile upturned his metallic lips and he reached out and gently wiped the corner of my mouth using his thumb. It should’ve embarrassed me, I suppose. But rather the opposite proved true, and I found myself lifting up onto my toes before I could help it and resting my helm against his, and we stood there embracing and embracing between his door and his berth with a stack of data-pads on his desk stationed beside us, and it felt like the nicest thing in the world, my hands running slowly up and down over his thick shoulders and along his armoured arms and around to his back, holding his gorgeous male frame against mine. And up until then I don’t think that there had ever been a time where I wasn’t more intensely aware of the burning in my chest.

                 He pulled me flush against him and we kissed as well as were possible with our metal lips. When I traced my mouth down his jaw to nip at his throat cables, he flinched and held me away from him slightly with his hands on my hips.

                 “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have—”

                 “It isn’t that,” he said, and it took me a moment to realize that the cables on his throat were heavily indented. Megatron’s claws digging into his neck flashed into my mind. And suddenly, I whipped my head back up to look at him.

                 “Why didn’t you see Ratchet?” I asked, which seemed to me to have been the most logical thing to do, considering the agonizing nature of the injury and, not to mention, Ratchet’s track record of tearing a strip off any bot that tried to hide an injury from him.

             We were still standing there in the middle of his quarters, and he hadn’t let me go or anything, and I didn’t know if I should take him to the med bay, and as the stalemate continued, I was seriously considering doing just that, as he was standing there looking at me unblinkingly, seemingly caught up in his head. And then, after a few more moments, he said, “I wanted to see you.”

                 “You could have visited me after,” I pointed out, smiling up at him.

                 “True,” he said. “However, I wasn’t thinking of _later_ at that time. Against all logic and reason, I wanted to see you.”

                 “Oh,” I said, not knowing what else to say. His words warmed my spark and I wanted nothing more than to just nestle against him again. But there was still the issue of his injury to tend to. I debated taking him to Ratchet or Jolt, but the indents were familiar to me, having suffered from the injury myself and watched Ratchet fix the dents of many other bots during my time spent in med bay, and I knew that this was something I could likely repair on my own.

                “Come here,” I said, pulling him to me and then down to sit at my side onto his berth. We sat in silence for a few minutes as I contemplated how to begin; I was concerned most about hurting him, though I knew without a doubt that this was not going to be a pleasant experience regardless of how I gentle I tried to be. I raised my hand toward his throat and hovered there a moment until finally I grasped the sides of the smallest dented cable I could see and gave it a quick, sharp tug, pulling it back into place. Prowl exhibited no outward reaction, and I snapped my optics up to meet his, worried that he was second-guessing not having an actual, trained medic be the one to do this.

                 “You okay?” I asked.

                 His head was tilted up to allow me access so he didn’t speak, but his wings dipped in a way I recognized as the equivalent of a head nod to that of a non-winger, his optics focused somewhere on the ceiling.                

                 And so I recommenced pulling out the many dents. And pulling and pulling and pulling, my hands running lightly over each tender cable, feeling for the optimal spot, and then tugging it, as gently as I could, back into place. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best I could do considering I hadn’t received any sort of formal training, and I laughed because I knew how furious Ratchet was going to be at us for taking a do-it-yourself sort of approach instead of just stopping by med bay to receive treatment from him or Jolt. I thought back to the wrenching I’d seen Sunstreaker receive once when Ratchet had caught him hiding an injury out of fear that the medic would ruin his paint job and I laughed again, remembering his indignant expression after being hit in the head with a wrench.

               Prowl raised an optic-ridge at me, silently questioning.

                 “Just . . . Ratchet is going to throw a fit when he sees you next.” I waved my hand in mimicry of holding a wrench, unable to keep the smile off my face.

                  “In all probability, you are right,” he said, amusement showing on his face. I snuck a peck onto his neck as lightly as I could while I figured he was distracted. And leaned back to gauge how he would react, but to my surprise he was looking at me with a softly contemplative expression. He reached over and touched his finger very delicately to the edge of one of my catches on my chest plates, which unlocked upon contact almost as embarrassing as that was to admit, but instead of focusing on that fact as I thought he would, he ran his finger slowly along the upper edge of armour in front, and then traced it all the way down to the bottom. I watched his face as he did this. It seemed more intimate than kissing him had. By the time he’d worked his way up to my jaw, he’d barely touched me and yet I don’t think the burning had ever felt so intense.

                 I wanted to reciprocate his actions, but lacked the knowledge of what to do except for what I _knew_ would milk a response out of him. I traced my hands over his chest armour all the way around to where his doorwings were on his back and then smoothed my fingers lightly over the hinges, earning me a sharp inhale from him as he pulled me away slightly by my forearms.

                 I worried for a split second that perhaps I had overstepped some invisible boundary, but the sight of the undone catches on his chest plates and burning optics expelled all those thoughts and any others from my head. “Once we bond, there is no going back,” he said. “It is not like the humans version of marriage. It is forever.”

                 I lowered my hands onto my lap as I sat contemplating this. I knew without a hint of doubt that this was the mech I wanted to spend the rest of my days with, no matter how long or short. I already knew all about the act of sparkmerging thanks to Ratchet and his datapads so what he was saying now wasn’t news to me. What I was worried about was whether this was what _he_ wanted. I still had a lot to learn about being a transformer and I wasn’t all that sure he would even _want_ a femme who had little to no idea of how the mechanics worked that was involved in sparkmerging.

                 “This isn’t something you have to decide now,” Prowl said after awhile, his expression returning to that of his usual blank canvas.

                 “It’s not that. It’s . . . There’s something I should tell you first.” Heat flashed through my frame in embarrassment at the thought of where this conversation was headed all because I thought it necessary to inform him that I was a virgin—not only in this body, but also in my old one.

                 “What do you want to tell me?” he asked, and lifted my chin so I would look at him. When he did, I became aware that I was trembling.

                 “It’s just that I’ve never . . . Well, that I’ve never been intimate with anyone before. And I don’t just mean in this body”—I gestured at myself, as if to showcase the obvious—“but in my human one too. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if . . .”

                  I trailed off, feeling stupid for sounding stupid, but the hand on my metallic cheek never left, nor did the optics focused entirely on my own ever wander. Prowl traced his fingers very lightly over my cheek in a way that both soothed and aroused me until I shivered and pulled him down onto me as I fell backwards onto the berth, running my hands teasingly over his chest plates, which were open enough for me to see the beautiful orb of light dancing inside.

                 It was breathtaking. The moment my optics caught sight of the shine of his spark I instinctively reached out to part his chest plates further, mesmerized by the living blue diamond sparkling in his center. It wasn’t a single colour, but faceted and shining in every hue of blue. Without thinking, I reached out to trail my fingers over it in the gentlest of touches, watching as the energy arced out and touched me back, like a softest caress.

                 Prowl gasped, jolting against me, and I pulled back out of fear that I’d hurt him. Of course, I _knew_ that Cybertronians mated with their sparks, but was touching it with my hands a bad thing?

                 His entire body was rigid above me, but his optics were softer, glowing the absolute brightest I’d ever seen, to the point where they almost appeared _white_. And I felt shy looking at them, seeing as I would never be able to match their intensity. At the same time, I met his burning gaze without wandering for a few moments, before tracing the outline of his lips lightly with my fingers, stopping only when he grabbed my hand to tenderly press a kiss to the back of it. My entire frame flushed then, and I wrapped my legs around his waist in order to pull him closer to me while he dipped his head to nuzzle my cheek, my chest plates opening at the same time his did, as if my body knew what to do, even if I didn’t. Pleasure coursed through me as my spark seemed to move, exiting out of my chest to merge with his, and it wasn’t long before I forgot about being nervous, before I couldn’t even remember the weight I’d carried within me for so long, or whether I had the AllSpark inside of me or not.


	44. Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this chapter took a lot out of me for some reason. I guess because so much of the subject matter hits so close to home.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you read and review! Enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers* though I wish more than anything that they were freaking real.

_There wasn’t much to say when we awoke in each other’s arms the next morning. I was_ so tired from bonding and lack of sleep, from worrying about Abby and battling, that I could hardly speak anyway. We were quiet and peaceful together, my helm pressed against his chevron, his finger drawing languid circles on my hip, our bodies too out of whack to recharge anymore.

                   After a while, whilst I had my hand resting against Prowl’s cheek, listening to our sparks thrum in perfect harmony, I suddenly remembered my promise to see Abby. I exhaled a deep gust of air through my nose, not really wanting to move from my comfortable spot, but knowing at the same time that I couldn’t very well stay like this forever. This was a military base, after all. As if my thoughts were on display for all to see, Prowl was already pulling away. I watched as he flapped his doorwings as he sat on the edge of the berth for a moment, before standing, and making his way to where he kept his energon stashed in his desk across the room.

                   “How would you like your energon?” Prowl asked when I sat up and began to stretch my arms above my head. I was surprised by just how truly _hungry_ I was as I slid my legs over the edge of the berth, and tried not drool at the sight of the cubes of energon he had retrieved from his bottom drawler.

                   “Sweet, please,” I said, standing up to walk unsteadily over to the desk that he was parked in front of, mixing two cubes of pink energon. I was annoyed with my body’s sudden inability to function normally, but a flow of amusement I felt over our bond—that I at first assumed was my own—had me instead shooting Prowl a dirty look, though the small smile on his face remained unaffected as he calmly passed me my cube.

                 I sat down beside him on his chair while he continued to stand, and took a swig of my cube—my optics brightening the very moment the sweet mixture hit my tank. I drained my cube until it was empty, and then stole a sip of his, which he had set on the desk while he read through a datapad. I felt a lot more content afterwards. And I just kind of sat there, cradling his cube between my hands, kind of like it was a candle I was holding, until he reached over and plucked it from my grasp to sip from it as well.

                   Without so much as a glance in my direction, I watched as he took another clean sip of his cube and then wordlessly tapped the corner of his mouth. I brought my hand up to my face where he had indicated and removed it to find pink energon on my fingers. Promptly, I took out a cleaning rag from subspace and wiped my face and hands clean. I still had splatters of life energon on me, I realized. From when I’d slain Sideways yesterday. I’d almost forgotten about it. I was startled at the sight of it on my chest armour too, and I attempted to wash it off with the cleaning rag, fully aware of how disgusting I must have looked the entire time we were making out last night, but then I paused. I was washing off what was essentially the blood of another being—a being I had directly killed, murdered, watched _die_ in front of me.

                     A feeling of being reassured flowed over me via my bond with Prowl, and I tore my optics away from where I’d been staring unblinkingly at the blue droplets speckled like stars on the back of my hand to find him watching me.

                     Without a word, he took the rag from my hand and began to gently scrub away the life energon from my hand. I watched him, blinking back tears I didn’t even know had been gathering in my optics. Finally, I just shook my head and smiled. “I’m going to speak with Ratchet about becoming a medic,” I said, my spark relaxing now that I had actually spoken the words out loud. “I don’t want to ever take another life if I can help it.”

                     The surprise I expected to feel on his side of the bond never came, which confused me, considering he was the one who had been teaching me to fight lately in addition to Ironhide. I was worried he might be trying to hide his true feelings from me. So after a moment, I said, “You don’t seem surprised.”

                     “That’s because I’m not,” he said; and at my questioning look, he kneeled onto the floor next to his chair I was sitting in and took both of my hands in his own. “You have a fighting spirit, Jane. But not the kind that kills. These hands—” He lifted them up, holding them gently. “—are not the hands of a killer. I’ve seen the way you interacted with your horse: Always with reverence and gentle understanding. With your goat, you were the same. You’re more sensitive than most and in ways that few of us can afford to be.” His optics dropped to my hands, his face impassive. “I used to think that possessing that sort of deep-feeling for those around you, unless it was to serve a greater purpose, was a weakness we could not afford if we wished to win the war. It has always been one of my longstanding disagreements with Optimus,” Prowl said as he rubbed his thumbs over the back of my hands. “I can see now the error in my ways of wishing to resort to any means possible in order to win the war. Just as I know that you have the hands of someone who was created to give life. Not take it.”

                     I stared at him, silenced by emotion and the certitude that this was the most I had ever heard him speak. “Thank you,” I whispered, pulling him toward me. I kissed him hard and he kissed me back harder, our sparks pulsing as one.

 

We finally split from each other in the corridor, with me walking off in the direction of Abby’s quarters, and Prowl to his office. I didn’t know whether she would truly be there or not but figured I should at least check before I resorted to hunting all over base. When I reached the entrance to her quarters, having already transformed to fit in the human-sized hallway, I raised my hand, paused, and then rapped my knuckles twice against the door. I waited but received no answer. I thought about stopping by the mess hall in case she was breakfasting there, before thinking of the other places she might be.

                     “Janie!” Abby bellowed just as I turned to leave. I jogged my way toward where she was walking beside Jesse at the end of the hall and we embraced. “I was just coming to find you,” she told me, grimacing slightly as she pulled away.

                     “Are you okay?” I asked.

                     “I’m sore, but it beats being dead I suppose,” she said, clutching my arm. I watched as she flashed one of her rare genuine smiles at Jesse, before tugging on me. “Come on, I’m dying to take a shower. I’m positive I look and smell gross.”

                     I followed her back down the hall and to the entrance of her quarters and through the door until we were standing in the middle of her room. It was similar to how mine was aside from the obvious gap in size and lack of sunrise painting that I had covering my walls and ceiling. Immediately Abby walked over to the bed parked sideways against the far wall and sat down on it.

                     “Mind if I rest for a bit?” Abby said, gesturing to the floor below her. I sat down on my knees with my back to her and the bed and felt her gently comb my hair with her fingers, before running a brush through to untangle the knots: Just as she’d used to do when we were kids before bed every night.

                     “You never did take much care of your hair,” she said to me, and we were quiet for a while.

                     “I don’t know how you managed while you were alone,” she whispered a few minutes later, and my eyes, which had fluttered shut, flew open as I resisted the impulse to spin around and openly look at her. The hand on my head grew still, and I wondered if she was going to take it away completely. But in another moment, it had returned, though with far less vigour than before. “You always were the strong one,” she said.

                     “That’s not true,” I said, trying to keep the emotion I was feeling from my voice. I felt concern seep over the bond I shared with Prowl, and did my best to send back feelings of reassurance so that he would know I was okay. After a moment I felt the equivalent of what could only be described as him gently retreating in order to lend me some privacy, obviously returning to whatever he had been doing.

                     “I’m not afraid to admit it. I was weak and I know it,” Abby said, her voice carrying nothing of the tremor I could feel in her hands. Suddenly she took the brush away from the back of my head. “I was weak and angry and so I left you all alone to look after Gramps, despite knowing that he was sick. All because I couldn’t deal with the fact that Gram was _gone_.”

                     I got up off the floor and sat down next to her on the bed. “I don’t blame you for that,” I said. “I knew you were grieving.”

                     “Oh and like you _weren’t_?” she said, her voice flashing with emotion. “You stayed despite _everything_ that was thrown at you. I just ran away like a coward.”

                     I watched my little sister and said nothing. Part of me wanted to scream bitterly at her, to shake her and rage and accuse, because she was right: I did stay despite everything. I stayed and cared for their farm and for Gramps, I tended to him in his final days in the Hospital—I stayed despite _everything_. I didn’t see her helping out around the farm, paying the bills, or by visiting him in the Hospital during the last days of his life. She came up with every excuse in the book _not_ _to be there_. But despite all of that being true and more, I looked at her and came to the startling realization that in my spark I’d already forgiven her. My past feelings of resentment and hurt toward her were as far away as the moon. And it wasn’t just because she was my sister or because an inner part of me still longed to return to the days when we were friends. It was because for once it was finally enough for me to simply take her as she was, letting her come and go with the wind. For once I didn’t find myself aching for a companion. For once the stab of regret I usually felt whenever I looked at her didn’t thunder into my head. That empty bowl, it was all filled up.

                     “It’s not fair,” said Abby after a while. “It’s just so goddamned unfair.”

                     “What is?” I asked, though I knew.

                      “Everything,” she said, “Mom walking out on us for fucking drugs, loosing Gram and Gramps— _all of it_ ,” and then she broke down, just for one moment, her sob roaring in against the walls like a clap of thunder, as she hurled her hairbrush across the room with a loud clattering sound. Then she collapsed onto herself and trembled violently, be it from rage or grief or maybe both, I couldn’t tell.

                     I put my hand on the back of her neck and stroked her once-brown-now-red hair, feeling as her thin body shook beneath me.

                    After a while, she sat up and pulled me backwards onto the mattress and we lay there together talking and crying into the wee hours of the morning, until, side by side, we drifted off to sleep. I roused a few hours later, turning to Abby with a start, having forgotten for an instant where I was.

                       “We fell asleep,” I said.

                       “I know,” she said. “I woke up a few minutes ago. Pain Medication wore off.”

                       She looked haggard and tired, and I knew even without being able to see it that a large black and blue bruise marred the side of her ribcage near her armpit. She lay sideways; her hair nestled about her head like a raging fire, her eyes closed. I could hear her breathing shallowly, slowly.

                     “I’m so sorry,” I said, gesturing to her side though she couldn’t see it, my voice suddenly swelling.

                       “Don’t,” said Abby, her eyes snapping open to look at me: hazel and fiery, just as they’d always been. In all this, they hadn’t changed. “Just forget it, Janie. If this really is to be our new reality, we might as well accept it. The cherry and the pit and all.”

                       I nodded and she closed her eyes again. We lay side by side in silence for a while. I debated getting up to retrieve a medic for her, but sensed innately that she would not appreciate the gesture. As I mentally traced the lines on her youthful face it suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks that no matter how hard I fought to sustain her life, someday she _was_ going to die. I would remain as I was for the hundreds of years that were to come, but my sister—my sister would wither away into nothingness in less than a droplet of that time.

                       “Of course you’ll be okay no matter what shit life decides to throw your way,” Abby said after a while, opening her eyes to stare into mine. “You know why?” she asked.

                       I shook my head, though I knew the answer.

                       “Because what else could you _be_?” she said. “You’ve made it this far. And the worst thing that you could ever expect to happen—it already did.”


	45. Lost And Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for my absence, here is a super long chapter! I really hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

_That afternoon, I left Abby napping on her bed, shedding my human self just as soon as_ I stepped foot into the main hanger. I’d been awake laying next to Abby’s prone form for about an hour, for fear that once I left the feeling of our grandparents being there in the room with us would disappear. As I stepped out into the brilliant sun, I found myself heading without hesitation to the trail that led to the beach. I wandered away before any of the others took much notice of me, happy to be alone. Exhausted, slow, and emotionally spent as I was, hapless as I might be, the magnificence of the beach never failed to revive my spirits. Standing on the shore, watching the waves thunder across the vast blue at least once a day, day after day, had become de rigueur.

               An hour out, I was struck by the sudden certitude that a presence was falling from the heavens above me. I froze, unsure of whether to alert the others or remain perfectly quiet. The AllSpark within me sparked to life, much like a lit match thrown onto gasoline: Suddenly the coordinates of the tiny spark materialized in my vision, so close that I could see her. A little femme, I realized a second later. My optics held onto her fast descending form, her tiny spark pulsing weakly in my enhanced vision, before I bounded straight into the ocean with my hands extended to catch her.

               “Ah!” I yelled when the impact of the little bundle landing in my palms sent a wave of intense pain ricocheting up my arms, almost sending me face-first into the water, but I held onto her anyway, managing to remain standing despite the force of impact and pain. “Oh, baby,” I said to her as I stood, almost waist-deep in the rolling water and stunned, wondering what to do next.

               She looked stunned too, her expression both adorable and tired. It occurred to me that I was holding an actual _sparkling_ in my hands, though she was nothing as I had expected one to be. I’d never seen a sparkling, aside from what had been given to me in the data-packets. At the very least, I’d expected them to be larger than what this one was: her small frame fit perfectly in the cup of my hands. She had beautiful speckled midnight blue armour and two little doorwings. I pulled her carefully to my chest, a part of me sensing instinctively that the pulse of my spark would help calm her, my optics never leaving hers.

               “Jane!”

               I blinked and turned, seeing a group of bots making their way towards me from the western-side of the beach. Prowl was in the lead with Optimus and Ratchet following behind him, looking shocked and worried. Both stopped in their tracks at the shoreline though when they caught sight of just what exactly I was holding while Prowl came bounding straight up to me, wading through the water that only came to his upper-thigh instead of his waist like me.

               “Are you injured?” asked Prowl as soon as he came up to me, a hand coming up to touch me under my elbow joint in case I needed support. I winced as fireworks of searing pain shot up my arm and he removed his hand like I had burned him, only to support me by grabbing my waist when my legs began to shake uncontrollably.

               I gasped as my fingers gave an involuntary twitch as though to secure that I a tight hold of the sparkling, only for another flash of burning hurt to emanate from the area to my shoulder almost. I knew then that the damage I’d sustained was bad, especially since a couple of my fingers refused to bend at all. Before my legs had the chance to give out completely though, I felt myself being scooped up by Prowl, who carried me bridle-style back to the shore where Optimus and Ratchet were standing. I half-expected him to set me back down, but he only continued to hold me, his spark engulfing mine in warmth over our bond, though his face remained closed off.

                  Ratchet was at my side in an instant, though he moved slower than I would have expected, seeming to keep a sharp optic on Prowl for some reason, whose grip had tightened minusculely on me as the medic approached.

                 “Slaggit, she damaged her wrist again,” Ratchet cursed, after I felt a familiar tingle run through my body, “and this time far more severely. I need her transported to medical bay so I can seal the damaged lines and get to work on repairs.”

                 Prowl didn’t respond; only turned and took off in the direction of the main hanger, holding me gently but firmly in his arms. I could sense the stares of nearby soldiers and bots as the beach vanished behind us, but I didn’t mind because of the wonderful way his frame felt against mine so I could feel our sparks pulsing in sync. I let my head fall against his chest with a dull clang, my optics glued to the sparkling I still held in my hands. She had curled up against me, though her sky blue optics still watched me. It was odd to see her—and not only because she was the first sparkling I’d ever encountered. It had been ages since I’d been in the company of a child.

                   “Primus! Is that a sparkling?” asked Sideswipe from somewhere next to us. I tore my optics away from the sparkling to find that said mech had approached and was leaning over to examine what was huddled under my hands. Sunstreaker stood behind him, and though he didn’t come over to study the sparkling like his twin did, his usually indifferent face still held an expression of surprise.

                  I raised my head when a low growl like that of a wild beast emanated from the chest of the mech who held me. It was Prowl. His freezing optics were narrowed dangerously at Sideswipe, who immediately lifted his palms up, though he appeared confused, exchanging a look with his brother, whose expression suggested his mind was just as befuddled, before each seemed to take notice of my battered hands.

                   “What happened to her?” Sideswipe demanded, suddenly on alert. I smiled in spite of the pain I was in, touched by their protectiveness, but Prowl walked away with me before I could say anything. Any other time, I might have been annoyed, but as it was I was under stress and eager to get my hands taken care of. I could hear the twins arguing with each other and the bots around them as we entered the corridor. Though I wasn’t paying much attention to what they said, I startled at the annoyed bark of Ratchet’s voice, who I’d nearly forgotten was trailing us, accidently twitching my fingers in the process.

                   Tears sprung to my optics then from the fire of pain, and I could feel Prowl stiffen, before increasing his pace to a speeding walk. It was less than thirty-seconds later when we stepped into the med bay.

                   “Set her down on one of the berths,” said Ratchet, flicking his hand toward the berths as he went to retrieve something from across the room. Prowl carried me over to the berth that was closest and set me down on it, carefully as to not jostle my arms. I felt the sparkling shift in my hands in response, and I closed my optics to blot out the pain her action brought.

                   “I’m going to need to take the sparkling away from you so I can repair the damage to your hands unhindered,” said Ratchet from right in front of me. In reply, I only opened my optics and slowly extended the bundle I held in my hands to him.

                   The sparkling was calm enough, curled up in a metallic ball in the center of my palms, but the second Ratchet went to pick her up she shrieked and bit down on his finger. Ratchet, to his credit, didn’t curse. Though he did release her in shock and took his hand away. I was just as stunned, looking down at her as she let out a small hiss and flapped her doorwings at him in, what I could only assume was meant to be, a threatening way.

                   “Well, this complicates things,” said Ratchet, looking at her with a frown. I silently agreed with him, wondering what we were going to do now. I thought about setting her down where ever it was Ratchet had planned to put her _myself_ , but that would require bending more than just my arms. Just as Ratchet reached out with his hand, appearing as though he was going to make a second attempt at picking her up, despite the way she was still growling and hissing fiercely at him, Prowl reached out and lightly touched the side of her helm with his fingertip, causing her to look at him quickly. She became still as soon as she saw him, a look of wonder replacing that of her hostility.

                   “ _Hello, Little Star_ ,” Prowl greeted softly, speaking in Praxian.

                   She continued to gaze up at him.

                   “ _Peace to your spark_ ,” he said in the same gentle tone, before reaching out and carefully taking her from my hands. I watched in stunned silence as he held her skilfully in his palms, the little femmling doing nothing more then staring up at him with awed curiosity, before cradling her to his chest as I had instinctively done. She snuggled against his chest armour without hesitation, but soon resumed peeking up at him, her blue optics adorably wide.

                   “ _Do you have a name, Little One_?” he asked, smiling a little.

                  The sparkling blinked and then sat up from where she had been reclining against him. “ _Eyah_!” she replied happily. “ _I Aura_.”

                   Prowl touched the tip of her nose. “ _Hello, Aura. I am Prowl_.”

                   “ _You_ _cuddlewy_ ,” she said, curling up against him again, and I could feel my mate’s amusement over our bond. Then his frigid optics darted up to meet mine, and his expression moved from an amused little smile to reproachful as he took notice of my still untreated hands laying upturned in my lap. His optics shot to Ratchet with a look that required no verbal clarification. Ratchet snapped out of his stupor, cleared his throat, and quickly set to work on my wrists.

                   I let out a hiss of air as soon as he did, the pain his touch evoked though he was skilled and doing his best to be careful almost blinding. I could literally see part of them sparking—the energon from my severed lines dripping onto the floor with a rhythmic pulse. Ratchet had a serious expression on his faceplates now, and he lifted a needle up from someplace beside me, though I didn’t look to see where.

                   “Jane, I’m going to administer an injection that will put you into recharge,” he said, flecks of concern and guilt shining in his optics. “You will be alright. I simply want to ensure that you feel no pain, since I am unable to shut off the pain receptors in the area.”

                   I felt a tiny pricking sensation in my arm, but even then I could feel a part of me fighting to remain conscious. Defensive protocols onlined with the intention of overriding the drug in my system, and I sat up straight as all my senses enhanced to momentary full-awareness: bits and pieces of my processor replaying the last time I had been drugged into unconsciousness, only to awaken as a Megatron’s captive. My all-seeing optics caught sight of my not-grandmother standing across the room, and I outstretched my arm toward her, envisioning the outline of her body in my hand as I used a final burst of my strength to suppress the protocols fighting for control over my body.

                   I saw her mirroring my actions and for moment swore I was looking at an exact image of myself, before everything brightened to a blinding white in my vision. I was faintly aware of the shock radiating from the sparks around me. Then my body slumped forward as my vision darkened, and I slipped into unconsciousness.

                   I woke two hours later with the vaguely pleasant sensation that a tiny life force was close to mine. I could feel its warm weight through my armour on my belly below where my spark resided in my chest. I expanded my field in a sudden burst to better sense the sparks around me, before I onlined my optics and gazed over at the medic, who was standing with his back to me typing into a datapad.

                   “You know,” I said, smiling when he jumped at the sound of my voice, “this med bay could really use some brightening up. There’s nothing interesting to look at for anyone who isn’t a medic or, like, laying here unconscious.”

                   “Jane! You’re online,” Ratchet said, moving closer at the same I felt myself being scanned. “How are you feeling?”

                   “Like hell. But in a good way,” I reassured him, glimpsing concern spike in his optics. I flexed my hands and fingers tentatively, taking note of the fact that while outwardly they appeared to be fully repaired, I could feel nothing below my wrist in my right hand. It occurred to me that considering all the damage that wrist had even sustained up unto now I should count myself lucky that it was even functional at all. I pinched one of my left-hand fingers, and was relieved when I felt a sensation in my left finger, followed by a tingling in my right-hand fingers. A moment later, I shifted my focus back onto Ratchet, only to find him watching me with a rather solemn look in his optics.

                   “I managed to seal and repair most of the injuries to your arms and hands, but your right wrist has been greatly damaged. I repaired what I could, however, I’m afraid that I was unable to full functionality.” His optics dropped then to said hand of mine. Though he said nothing more, I could see guilt in his optics and wondered if he blamed himself for how fucked up my wrist was.

                   “Ratchet,” I said, gently placing my left hand on his arm and looking upon his face.

                   “Nothing. Just.” He stared at my hand for a long time before saying, “I feel that I owe you an apology, youngling. I was so easily distracted by the sparkling that I failed in my duties as a medic. I should have tended to you sooner rather than later, especially when your injuries were so obviously causing you immense pain.”

                   “Yes,” I agreed. I gazed up at him silently for a while, and then lowered my hand down to give his hand a squeeze. “But I forgive you for that. I might have been hurt, but at no threat to my life. My body would have survived even without medical intervention, and, indeed, it did.”

                 Ratchet looked as though he wanted to argue, but simply nodded. I let him go then, focusing my attention onto the sparkling curled up on my stomach armour. I gazed upon her recharging form curiously, but not without the certain tenderness I could viscerally feel her aching spark so desperately needed.

                   “Her energy signature has increased since I was last awake,” I said.

                   Ratchet nodded. “Her energy signature was weak due to a lack of energon in her system. I fed her, so that is likely what boosted her strength.” He paused half a second. “I would ask how it is you knew she was coming to Earth, but I suspect that it likely had something to do with the AllSpark enhancing your sensory-level above that of any normal Cybertronian.”

                   “You are not wrong,” I said, though I knew it was more of an unleashing of my abilities rather than a temporary sensory boost, as he seemed to think. Even now I could feel the swirl of memories and voices in the back of my processor, laying the pieces down to reveal to me the greater picture. “When did Prowl leave?” I asked.

                   “Not long after you dropped into recharge,” he answered. “I believe he had a meeting to attend regarding the Decepticon captive, though I have little doubt that the topic of the sparkling was brought up during their discussion as well.”

                   I nodded wordlessly, still gazing at the sparkling curled up asleep atop my belly. I was aware of the sparks in proximity to me around base though, and I raised my head just as the door opened to admit two mechs, one of whom crossed the floor immediately to press his helm against mine. I closed my optics and breathed deeply, my spark singing in chorus to his, before he pulled back and I opened my optics and we looked at each other.

                   “How are you feeling?” Prowl asked softly.

                   “Better,” I said, smiling up at him gently. Then I reached up and traced my fingers across his jaw, my optics snapping up to meet his teasingly. “I do think a kiss would make me feel even better though.”

                   A bit of a shy smile warmed his expression, causing my spark to flutter. “I . . . think a kiss could be arranged.”

                   “Maybe right here?” I asked, waving my right hand playfully.

                   Gently he took my hand into his and leaned over and kissed the back of it.

                   I lifted my other hand. “And here?” I asked.

                   With the same infinite tenderness, he picked up my other hand and placed a kiss onto the back of it as well. My spark was thrumming faster now, but I tapped a finger to my lips in a silent invitation. He smiled, leaning over at the same time I laid my hand against his cheek, keeping it there even as his helm drew closer to mine, his lips inches from meeting mine—

                   Ratchet cleared his throat and said, “If you two are done bashing helms, I have some energon here for you to drink, Jane.”

                   The sudden tug back to reality startled us, and Prowl pulled away quickly from where he’d been bent over the berth inches from my face. I was blushing, but I still moved to sit up as Ratchet approached with a cube of energon, using one of my hands to support the sleeping sparkling against my stomach armour. I took the cube he held out to me, and ignored the knowing look said medic had on his faceplates to instead take an immediate gulp of the pink energon. When it hit my tank—though it was bland compared to the cubes Prowl prepared for me—I felt instantly dizzy with pleasure, just as I had when I hungrily drank the cube I had earlier this morning. By the time I was done guzzling my entire cube, Jazz had approached and was standing next to Prowl with a hand clasped on his shoulder, grinning down at the tiny femme and I.

                   “Ah got to hand it to ya, mech,” Jazz said to Prowl as I wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand, ducking my helm in embarrassment. “Ya sure know how to pick ‘em.”

                    Prowl didn’t respond, but gazed at me with surprisingly warm optics. My frame heated up in response, and I downturned my attention to the sparkling curled against me to keep from thinking about the _festival_ we had in his quarters last night. I busied myself by watching the little femme as she slept, her doorwings twitching in occasion, and I smiled as the action instantly reminded me of Prowl and the way his own doorwings would often flutter in recharge.

                   “So there was something I wanted to discuss with you, Ratchet,” I said, my head lifting to look over at said mech, who was standing across the room typing into a datapad. “I’ve been thinking—about what I’m best suited to do? I know I’ve trained with the intention of becoming a fighter, but I would like to train to become a medic instead, if that is at all possible.” His optics opened wider, looking at me. “I know you already have an apprentice—and how busy you are. But it would mean a lot to me if you would at least consider taking me on as an apprentice.” I could feel the surprise radiating from Jazz next to my berth, but I narrowed my focus to the medic who was regarding me fixedly.

                  “The training to become a medic is not something completed within a few weeks,” he said, with an unreadable expression on his face. “Are you certain you are prepared for what is to come?” I nodded, steadfast in my want to become a healer as opposed to a killer—and the corners of his lips lifted. “I would be honoured to teach you then, Jane,” he said.

                   I nodded, silenced by emotion and the certitude that I really did have a lot of training ahead of me. “Thank you,” I said.

                   “So ya plan to become a medic?” asked Jazz as I returned to smiling down at the sparkling. I looked up at him and nodded. “Ah’m happy to hear that: They are what keeps us online and kickin’, after all,” he said. “Ah am wonderin’ what made ya change yer mind though.”

                   “It’s why I was created,” I said as memories of another time and place flew across my vision. “I was created with the powers to _give_ life. Not to take. I just want a chance to fulfill the purpose of my creation.”

                   “Ah’m guessin’ this has somethin’ to do with the AllSpark in ya?” Jazz said, staring at the sparkling.

                   “Yeah,” I said, “you could say that.”

                   Jazz hummed in response, but unexpectedly said nothing at that. And I felt the sparkling shift in my hand, flicking my gaze downward. I watched as a tiny door-wing flapped, then the sparkling onlined and looked up at me with sky blue optics in curiosity.

                   “ _Hello_ ,” I greeted, speaking in Praxian.

                   “ _Lo_ ,” the sparkling chirped, pushing herself into a sitting position with her hands braced against my chest armour. Despite my aversion for human children, I couldn’t help but feel a little twitch in my maternal side as I held her cradled close to my spark—something I usually only felt for animals and the like.

                   “ _It’s nice to meet you, Aura_ ,” I said. “ _My name is_ Jane,” I added, speaking my name in English since there was no translation for my name in Praxian.

                   Aura continued to gaze up at me. “ _Eyah_.”

                   “Dang, she sure is cute,” Jazz said, causing said sparkling to whip her head around and look at him. “ _Well, hey there, little femme_ ,” he said amiably. He extended his palm out to her, obviously in a form of Praxian greeting I was unfamiliar with, to which she reciprocated by hesitantly placing her own on top of his. Then she noticed Prowl standing silently by the berth closer to my head, and her doorwings lifted.

                   “ _Prowl!_ ” she called happily, reaching for him.

                   “ _Hello, little star_ ,” Prowl greeted, taking her from me gently when I offered her up to him. He held her against chest so that she could hug him.

                   “ _I yike oo_ ,” she said, resting her helm against him.

                   “ _I . . . like you too_ ,” Prowl said, though feelings of confliction floated over to me via our bond. He cupped a hand around the sparkling, and she responded in kind with an audible purr as feelings of safety and warmth emitted from her spark.

                   “Guess we all know who her favourite mech is,” said Jazz, with a laugh.

                    Prowl glanced over at him with a raised optic-ridge. “You know as well as I do that the only reason she is drawn to me at all is because I’m a Praxian.”

                   “Then why are ya the bot currently holding her and not meh?” Jazz asked, opening his empty arms as if to showcase the obvious. “Ah am half Praxian, after all.”

                   “She responded far better to you than she did to Ratchet,” I said, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice at my sudden recollection of earlier. Said mech frowned at me as he came up behind the shorter mechs, but was otherwise silent as he ran a quick scan over me and the sparkling.

                   Suddenly his expression darkened and he picked up a nearby wrench off a table, whacking Prowl in the back of the helm with it.

                   “ _Ow_ —” Prowl shot the medic a look of reproach, cupping his hand around the sparkling more protectively as she hissed. “May I ask what _that_ was for?”

                   “That was for not coming to see me regarding your neck injuries,” Ratchet growled. He paused, seeming to examine Prowl’s neck more thoroughly. “Though I must admit that you did a fairly decent job at pulling out all the dents,” he said, with a look of surprise flitting over his features.

                 “Actually that was me,” I said, just as Prowl opened his mouth. “I simply did what I’ve seen you do dozens of times, though I know without a doubt that I messed up in some places.”

                 “No, you . . . did very well,” said Ratchet, slowly. “I didn’t think you were paying attention all those times.”

                 I nodded, methodically flexing my right hand. “I wanted to have some idea just in case I ever needed to preform any of the procedures myself.”

                 “Is that so?” Ratchet said, rubbing his chin, as he looked me with something akin to approval in his optics. I could feel pride waft over me through my bond with Prowl, and glanced up at him to find that he was watching me with a small smile. My cooling fans switched on in response to the praise and I lowered my optics to study Aura instead, seeing that she was still hissing softly at the closeness of Ratchet, her tiny doorwings flared up in a defensive pose. Ratchet paused, turning to regard the hissing little femme as if he had just noticed she was there, before saying, “She is due for another feeding.”

                 He took a step toward Prowl as though to take the sparkling, only to pause when the action caused her to hiss a little more loudly. He regarded her blankly for a moment and then shot Prowl an exasperated look, who in reply touched her wingtip delicately to get her attention.

                 “ _There is no need to be afraid,_ _Aura_ ,” Prowl said gently, “ _Ratchet is my friend and would never hurt you. He just wants to know if you are hungry.”_

                 “ _Eyah_ ,” Aura said, still eyeing the medic reproachfully, “ _but him gwabby. My no yikes gwabs.”_

                 I grinned amusedly, and Jazz laughed. “She thinks you have grabby hands,” I explained to Ratchet, so he could understand, and in reply he just shook his head in resignation, muttering something about ‘Praxians’ under his breath.

                 Prowl looked like he was trying to hold in his amusement. “ _I will feed you if you like_ ,” he said to Aura, “ _but then Ratchet is going to look after you for a little while. He is a kind and good mech. You will see.”_

                 “ _Okay_.” She seemed a little reluctant, but didn’t argue. “ _I eats now_?”

                 “ _Yes_ ,” he said, and shifted her so that she was sitting entirely on one hand. I half expected him to go fetch a bottle or something, but to my utter surprise he only brought his free hand up to hover inches from the side of her head so that his wrist was near her mouth. It kind of looked like when one would lay a hand on someone’s cheek, only without the actual contact. At least, until, something metal extended out from his inner wrist—

                 I watched in wonder as Aura latched onto the end of it and began to drink contentedly, her doorwings relaxing from their flared out position as she ate.

                 “You can _feed_ her?” I asked Prowl, swinging my legs carefully over the edge of the berth so that I was facing him. He nodded, and wordlessly bent over so I could peer over his hand at what she was suckling from: a metal rod of some sorts from a part of his inner wrist. Aura gazed up at me with her sky blue optics, but otherwise was quiet as she continued to drink, her little wings fully relaxed now on her back. A moment later, Prowl straightened back up. He was close enough for me to reach out and touch though, and so, without really thinking, I wrapped my arms around his leg closest to me and rested my helm against him, shutting my optics.


End file.
